Last summer, after Midas fucked up my car, I took it to my “regular” mechanic. Now, you would think I would know better than to let Midas fuck up my car, but I was under the mistaken impression that their warranty meant something and they had worked on it before. They finally managed to get the brakes workable (I won’t say “fixed” cuz they aren’t) but they were clueless about the cooling system.

So my mechanic installed a new, heavy duty radiator (after 100,000 miles the old one was, shall we say, tired) and some other stuff and fixed me up right and sent me on my way. No problem.

Some time later, I noticed that the temperature gauge would go up and down, and when I checked the fluid levels they had dropped. So I’d add water and go on. This went on for a while.

I finally took it in to my mechanic, and didn’t even consider letting Midas fuck it up again. (You notice I’m saying “Midas” and “fucked” and “car” a lot? I’m not usually a vindictive person, but for once I’m hoping to use my google powers for good, if even one person decides to not go to Midas, I have accomplished my mission).

Anyway, they had it all day. This shop is a throwback to the days of old (when Knights were bold, no wait, not quite that far back). They understand cars. They love cars. They tell you in no-nonsense terms what they are doing. If you hang out there, you will hear them on the phone, calling for prices on parts, looking for services, dealing with customers. No phony crap, they are all business, and good people. So I had no problem leaving the car with them, knowing it would be fixed. What I didn’t know is how much it would cost.

Let’s just say that there isn’t any room in the budget for car repairs right now. Gas? We can barely afford. Repairs? Forget it. No. Room.

So Monday afternoon I called and they said they were test driving it and come get it. My wife dropped me and my son off, I saw the owner – he said there was no charge since they had worked on it before and he didn’t think they did it right last summer. No charge. You could have knocked me over.

So we’re waiting outside for them to bring the car around, and I see him stop (he’s filling out something on a clipboard while sitting in the car across the way). My son says “Does he know how to drive your car?” I said yes, of course, he’s a very good driver, and in fact drives race cars.” “Really?”

So we go back in and I point to the gaggle of trophies on the shelves, the pictures on the wall, the newspaper articles in the frames. He’s been racing a long time, and doing rather well. He loves it. So my son, being the curious sort, asks him “Did you win first place with all these?” “Yep. And there’s another twenty five or so trophies at home.” Starts showing him pictures, my son’s eyes get wider.

“Want to come see the race car?” “SURE!”

So we go back, through the maze, outside and into another garage where the race cars live. “It’s a little banged up, we went into the wall on Saturday. The pace car hit me and put me into the wall.”

So, with his blessing, my son dives through the window and into the seat (his tiny little but fits easily into the bucket seat, I don’t think I would have even fit through the window). Strapped into the five way harness. Steering wheel re-installed, we talked about the gauges and such. My boy was clearly thrilled to be there.

“Wanna start it up?” “SURE!”

So our friend unclips the hood real quick (to make sure the cat wasn’t sleeping in there), rocks the car to make sure it’s out of gear, throws a couple of switches, and then my boy pushes the start button.

This was the loudest damn BMW I have ever heard. I’m just saying. The building shook.

My son was ready to head out to the track, but we all agreed he needed to grow a little bit so he could reach the pedals and see over the hood. But dang, that was fun. I don’t know who enjoyed it more – me or him.

You’ll never get that kind of service at Midas. (yes, 24 hours later I’m Google’s #1 for Midas Fucked)