This is a letter to the editor I sent around Christmas time regarding my experience with Mr. Tire. I refer to them as "the garage, Grinch, etc.
How The Grinch AlmostStole Christmas, and the Mechanics Who Saved it. I bring my car to a garage near work for an oil change. Does this oil change include topping off all of my fluids? I ask No, thats our upgraded oil change for $yadda, $yadda [sic]more. I go with the upgrade. Im already 4000 miles overdue and mycar had begun making a strange noise when I turned the wheel, kind of a hummingsound. Nothing a power steering fluidtop off couldnt fix, I naively think to myself. I leave my car, return to work, and within minutes get acall from the garage. Yeah hi, this is the garage, we got inside your carand you need a new power steering pump. Before I can catch my breath, herattles off, so it will be $320 for the pump, $220 to install it and $119 toflush the system. So here I am at work, in cube world, and the flashbacksbegin: bills flapping in front of my face like hungry seagulls, my husbandsface hovering, his words echoing from the night before: try not to spend anymoney this week until we get paid. Then the Pville Skating Rink and balloonscyclone past, the ones Id planned to have for my 8 year oldsupcoming birthday party. It will have tobe next year I can hear myself telling her. He explains the seal is broken and leaking power steeringfluid. Is it dangerous? I ask. No, but over the long term the motor willburn out, you will get metal shavings in your rack, and ruin the rack. Now anywoman can tell you the words ruined and rack are never good when usedtogether, but now I can only imagine how bad it must be when referring to anautomobile. I pull in enough air to tell him Ill have to talk to my husband. Now, my husband is handy but I leave my car repair to theexperts. When I weigh the prospect of giving our little girl a broken powersteering pump for Christmas, I would let him replace my entire braking system. At least I know that the life insurance payout would cover the cost years oftherapy she would need after the greasy stocking incident of Christmas 2008.ina defeated voice, just get it done babe, was all my husband could muster. I retreat out to the back of my office building and vent toa coworker, he gives me the name of another local garage. I call andimmediately the voice seems so familiar, I shake the feeling and explain mysituation. That does sound a little high, he tells me of the quote bring itin on Monday. I thank him for his time and ask to whom I am speaking. Mikehe tells me. Im the owner. I hang up and put the name together Mike Fallonanother wave of familiarity hits me but I still cant place it. I began to dwell on what a pain it would be to take it for asecond opinion. Just call them back andhave them do it, theyll have itdone today, and well be done with it, I think to myself. I reach for thephone to call the first garage to conceed, when it rings. I see the number of my daughters school pop up on my callerID. I switch from financial panic mode and into mommy panic mode as the schoolnurse explains, your daughter has a fever and says her throat hurts. Itsfunny how we women can switch from one panic mode to the next so effortlessly. Ill be there as soon as I canshoot, mycar, it will have to wait! Over the weekend and I realize why the name Mike Fallon wasso familiar. When I was a kid growing up in Ashburn, almost 20 years ago, whenit was still in the sticks, my parents took all of their cars to a youngmechanic who worked at a local service station on Route 28. I realized it wasMike Fallon. Once, in college I took my Tercel to Mike for an emissions test. Donate it to charity. He said with such a pleasant smile as a cloud of blacksmoke dissipated from the service bay. Also during the weekend I take an inventory of how trulyblessed I am with or without $700. I think of those who have loved onesfighting abroad, those who dont have warm homes, those who are out of work, and those who continue to go hungry. I tuck my sick child into bed, kiss herfever-broken forehead, and I cant help but think of those who have lostchildren, who would give tenfold to have their babies, even for just one moreChristmas. Then it struck me, I had lost sight that I have a loving family, awarm home, food in my belly, a job that I actually like, and a mending, butoverall healthy child. These blessings, anyone will tell you, tough times ornot, are priceless.By Monday morning actually felt really good about bringingmy business back to Mike. Mike calls back in less than 2 hours to tell me mycar is ready. Great, I tell him, pausing, waiting for the bombshell. Goodnews, he says, you dont need a new power steering pump. What? I manage tostammer. He explains that the seal is just fine; and that the fluid is morethan likely was coming from clamps that were loose. We tightened the clampsand cleaned it up and its ready to go. At this point Im blown away. Not tomention fuming with the Grinch at the other garage. I go to Fallons to pick up my car, and I pull out mywallet. Wow I cant thank you enough, I tell him as I try to hand him mycredit card. Well you have a happy holiday, he responds, not reachingfor my card. Here, I say awkwardly extending the card across thecounter. Oh no, theres no charge maam. Please charge me for an oil change or something, I insist. You ordered the pump, you took the time to tighten and clean the clamps, please my voice trails off. No, just come back when you need an oil change he tells meand have a happy holiday. My eyes begin to well with tears, I know there is no way tosay what I want to say without sounding corny, and clich, but I blurt outanyway, You know, you all have literally saved my familys Christmas, and mydaughters birthday. As the first tear spills over, despite my best effort tohold it together, I ask rhetorically, How do you explain a broken powersteering pump to an 8 year old? He reaches out, touches my arm I know how itis having little ones, he says, I understand. Thank you so much is all I can muster. You may have noticed that I chose not to name the Grinch inthis story. They will know me as the young lady who told them that maybe if Igot a Christmas bonus at work Id be back for the repairs. This is not thefirst tale of dishonesty I have heard about the Grinchs garage, butinterfering with ones livelihood is not my style. Call it my inspired act ofkindness. Maybe the Grinch will be so moved by my act of kindness, that from now that he will be less concerned whether his wallet grows threetimes that day.
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