Michael. Don't know his last name,...so it was Michael during the 48 hour automotive ordeal from Friday - the 3rd of July's - trek up to the lakes of New Hampshire.
After bitching about a half hour stop and go delay to get past a toll on 16 in NH (stalled in traffic for a fifty cent toll - toll collection is not good economics) the real crisis came when the power steering went down; and the temperature gauge shot up and we could smell burning rubber coming through the air intake from the engine. (What kind of Jack_ss would hold on to a 97 Explorer,....!)
The rotor to the water pump had seized, shearing the fan belt, and knocking out the power steering pump and the AC. Fortunately we were able to get off the highway and pull into Rochester NH. But then there was the down pour and the 20 minute wait to just look under the hood. The belt was shredded and the rendezvous to the lakes was beginning to look like a bust.
It's 6 pm, July 3rd 2009 - the thought of a "service station" a gasoline station that actually diagnoses and fixes automotive vehicles seemed like a remote possibility; the era of roadside service stations is gone.
After a quarter mile hike; there's a Getty station with it's garage bay doors open and a mechanic working on a Subaru. The guys name is Michael.
Michael is Lebanese. He was born in the US but has been back and forth to visit his father who still resides in Lebanon. His father is a high ranking officer in the Lebanese army and Michael mentioned that one Syrian faction made an attempt on his life about 10 years ago. His sister has her Bachelor's degree and a law degree and works in DC. One of his brother's is a doctor; his other brother has a professional degree in science and works between academics and government research.
His younger cousins are still in school pursuing master's degrees. Michael has a bachelor's degree in criminal justice as well.
He owns the Getty station and began fixing cars in his spare time in college.
"I like working here; I like owning the station and it's fun for me helping people for a living. I get to meet all kinds of people in this job."
The tendency to box in an individual to fit a certain profile is a common flaw of the mind. Every time we went off subject, Michael would shoot back with some observation or some comment about life, education, small business, or taxes: he knew more about life at 27 then your average US Congressional rep.
"I'm getting married in September,..Scottie,....she'from Russia; she is an excellent cook and once married she wants to open a restaurant in America."
Michael scrolled through his I phone photo library and there she was; smiling somewhere from a kitchen 10,000 miles away. The technology and the intimacy were driving the worrisome problems aside; the Friday night episode began to transcend the motor vehicle crisis stage and morph into a pub conversation. I had to grab at the good will and plug it into my holiday journey. The downside was turning upside and the stress waned a little. What would happen next?
The explorer had to sit it out in the Getty station over the weekend; but that didn't prevent Michael from calling me Saturday morning - the fourth of July - to explain that he found the problem and would fix it as soon as the automotive parts store opened on Monday. "Scottie, I will guarantee you,..it'll be done by Monday morning,"..he said to me on the phone,..as the parade in Wolfsboro had just come to an end. "Trust me man,..I'll take care of you."
Trust me man! I looked at the stars and stripes flag bunting on one of Wolfsboro's gift shops. "Trust me" said the stranger.
On Monday,..the sun in full bloom; the Getty station was buzzing with activity. Michael was cordial and beaming as he consoled a few beleaguered travelers; the vehicles sitting in the cue waiting for his assistant Tony's diagnosis.
"Scottie, I'm going to charge you 2 hours labor." "Your kidding, I said,...Michael, you're a business man,..you were dealing with this junk box on Friday night, you were working on it Saturday, you called for parts today and you fixed it in the last hour,...I figured a day,..or at least a four hour minimum."
"Nah,...it was only two hours to fix it,..I told you I would take care of you man,...I will charge you for parts and two hours labor."
"Michael, give me your address, this isn't the last time your going to hear from me."
We were back on the road at 10:30 am on Monday the sixth - traveling south on 95 - only to be diverted again by a gas tank trailer roll over on 95 south. Such is fate.
Fourth of July 2009 - there are hero's on the bottom of America' great economic grid; hero's that can rival angels with spirit and intent. If only the media could look down and see who's keeping it all together.
I'm going to send this guy something; help me out - I don't want to get too corny. What should I send him?
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