Today I helped get a hitch for a bike rack installed on Adam's new car. The shop's location was in a less-than-desireable part of town.
When my GPS announced "You have arrived at your destination," I looked around and didn't see the shop.
I drove around the block twice. Finally I pulled over in front of a church (the safest place to pull over and stop in this area, I figured) and called the shop owner, Ike.
"I've driven down the street twice and I can't find your place," I told him.
"Where are you?" he asked.
"I'm in front of the church on Anselm."
"Oh, you just passed us. We're about 100 yards behind you."
"Is your shop the one with the 12 foot high chain link fence topped with concertina wire, and old tires hanging on the fence and a sign that says, "We straighten bent wheels?"
"Yep. That's it," he said.
He actually turned out to be a great guy. It was a 95 degree day with 92% humidity in Boston today. His waiting room (pictured above) was pleasantly air-conditioned but it appeared his shop area in the back was not.
He kept coming out from the shop area to give me updates. He was mopping sweat from his head and neck with a rag every time he appeared.
In one update, he told me he had four guys (and these are big, burly auto mechanic-types) holding the detached muffler up while some necessary part was being installed onto the car frame.
Twenty minutes and $120 later, the Mazda had a hitch!
After it was done, I thanked him and gave him money to buy pizzas and cold drinks for everyone for lunch.
And to think that Adam had actually considered putting the hitch on himself! The instructions said anyone could do it in an hour and a professional could do it in 30 minutes.
Directions can be so misleading!