on the path…hustle and body repair part 1
The vibe is this:
Driving down sunset blvd. after a fresh haircut. I need a fuse for my Sirius radio adaptor. I pull into the parking lot for the local Radio Shack. Los Angeles has lots of strip malls but they are more dense than in Raleigh. This means that there are 8 or 10 stores with maybe 15 places to park, and the entrances are easy to miss depending on what side of the road you’re on. I really wanted to spare everybody this but driving logistics are a major part of living here. Consider it a sign from heaven to turn left across traffic and straight into 1 of 3 spaces reserved for Radio Shack!
I guess at the right type of fuse I need. I’m being rung up by a person that had the social skills of a frustrated teenager. I counted my change just to make sure he wasn’t randomly guessing at it and made my way out the door.
“HEY VW” someone yells in a mixed accent of Indian and New Jersey.
I’m twisting my head all over trying to see where the sound came from. I look like a tourist. My car still had NC plates on it at this time.
I hear it again, this time with heavy breathing.
“Are you the guy who owns this Volkswagen?” He asks saundering across the parking lot.
His name was Steve of Indian and Greek ancestary (sp) He was large (as in rotund), and had a very dark complexion. He was sweating as if he’d been logging pine trees in the Mississippi humidity but it was only 79 degrees. He had a lingering accent but I could tell New Jersey overtook most of it.
I had no where to be, and I thought of everyone who needed a good story about L.A.
THE STORY:
Steve lights into me with the fastest sales pitch I’ve ever heard.
“I’ll tell you what I do for you ok, ok, I’ll pop that dent out the door, and put the strips back on the side, you still have the strips, yes yes I’ll put them right back on for you I’ll screw them on to the holes if you still have the strips, and the big dent in the door were you in a wreck yes yes I’ll pull it right out, I’m a mechanic you see I’m off today but have all the tools right in my car over there (points to sunset blvd backing up with rush hour traffic) right over there, he reiterates; and I’ll do it for, I’ll do it, hm for $115, ok take 30 minutes make it look new in 30 minutes you know what I’ll do for you you know what I’ll do save you $500 dollars and do it for $115 whaddyou think of that whaddya think good deal right very good right.
whats your name? he asks.
I smile and say Stephen. in my slow Southern accent. Yes, here I’m considered to have a Southern accent. He lights in again.
“You know Stephen you know what I’ll do for you is pull that dent right out I have the tools in my car I’m borrowing them from the shop and return tomorrow.”
Where’s your shop? I ask
“It’s right down there right down there (And he points down the road, a street lined with houses and no shops of any kind much less auto body repair.) he goes on without missing a beat.
“I’m just trying make a little money on the side for my family you know I have a lot of kids.” I wanna buy new shoes for my kids. I have a niece getting married I have a niece getting married so whaddya think weddings are expensive.
“How about tomorrow,” I say slowly. $115 is too much.
“OK you know what I do for you stephen you know what I do, how much would you pay me to do it right now bottom price make it look real nice for like at the body shop save you $500.”
I stand there looking at the dent in my door. I’m thinking of whether to go with the flow of this unfolding experience or go home for a run.