The Humble Mechanic

Here’s a man with his foot placed firmly on life’s reality pedal.
A ‘grease monkey’ to the core. No grandiose high rise for him.
The garage forecourt and workshop on the corner of a busy road is his castle.
Noise, dirt and grime, hoists and pits are his domain. The camaraderie
is infectious. You know that you’re among people that are doing their
job because it’s not only what they do, but also what they enjoy.

I drive a car that has been in circulation for twenty five years. My friends call it my anti establishment machine. The paint work no longer responds to a cut and polish and the roof and bonnet sport golf ball size pock marks, the result of a freak Sydney hailstorm.

For the past six years it has been serviced and had ‘rego’ checks at my local garage.
With each advancing year it becomes a greater challenge to get it through the ‘rego’ check. Were I to ditch my humble mechanic and transfer my aged car’s loyalties to another garage, it would have been sent to the tanners long ago. My guy likes the challenge. This year my 'loyal companion' hit its biggest hurdle yet, the silent killer, rust, threatened to be the master of its demise. After an in depth consultation with the humble mechanic we came to a compromise – cut out sufficient rust to get it past the ‘rego’ inspection. Cost to be kept to a minimum to avoid exceeding the’ trade in for parts’ value of the car. The result, a labour of love, a vision to behold. Gone were the fist sized holes and smudgy rust marks, in their place pristine perfection. It was with great joy that I handed over the cash.

Next step was to get the inspection report transferred electronically to the
Roads and Traffic Authority. When I asked my humble mechanic if this had been done
he sheepishly replied that he was “only the guy that cut out the rust, not the guy that handled the paper work”. He was flabbergasted when I praised his role as being of paramount importance. I drove off triumphant, knowing that I had scored yet another reprieve for my dream machine.

There’s a sequel to this story.
It was raining heavily the first time I used the car, post its 'face lift'.
To my horror, the inside of the windscreen took on the guise of a dam
spillway. The rust was cut out alright, but the windscreen hadn’t been sealed.
Back to the humble mechanic. My return attracted a bevy of mechanics all offering advice on how to reverse the situation without, at great expense, removing the windscreen. A consensus was reached; a silicon seal around the window would do the trick. It was mutually agreed that there would be no charge but as I drove off one of the guys shouted out "he is a big chocolate cake fan" to which I replied “done”.