Sunday, July 27, 2008


BOOM BOOM BLAH BLAH.  No I’m not licking shots.  Those are the sounds my car makes while accelerating, and although it gets attention from the ladies, I am about 95% certain it’s the wrong kind.  What can one do when auto repairs are in need?  It’s like every small garage owner is trying to get rich off me personally in one shot.  It’s like,

“Okay bud,” (He’s not my bud), “you got a hole in your pipe running from the converter to the muffler.  I’m going to need about all your life savings to get a new pipe for this baby…oh yeah special order, expensive parts.”
“My life savings?  That’s a bit much don’t you think?”
“Or your kid…do you have a kid?…$350?  You have that?  I’ll take that too.”
So I asked the only person on this planet I can trust in any matter.  My grandfather.  He directed me to this Jamrock auto garage where apparently he is a king, because when I mentioned his name the treated me like err.. a princes son a guess.  This small garage was filled with old Jamaican men who really know how to fix stuff.  After assessing my broken pipe, the mechanic declared he could fix it with some spare parts in the garage.  But what really impressed me was when the mechanic stood underneath my car and began welding parts together with nothing but his beard to protect his face.  No mask, no gloves.  Sparks flying everywhere, really, it was quite a sight.  And because of the small friendly environment I stood right beside him underneath my car as he patched it up.  Sparks flying at me too, but if he isn’t complaining I’m damn sure not going to pipe up.

I was already feeling pretty good about this guy, and he kept coming with heat, because once my car was off the lift it was quieter than when I first bought it.  What do you have to pay for service like that?  Sixty bucks.  Thanks gramps.  Respect.