Not Hungry

Who am I to disparage oxidized metal (Tuesday's post below) when I can’t / won’t / shan’t part with my rust-pocked wheels from my college days?

I took my (t)rusty Beetle to Fred’s in Redwood City. Fred, who spoke mit ein tick Churmon accent, was everyone’s image of a Teutonic mechanic—white uniform, tallow hair, all business with no time for pleasantries. His son, John, inherited the auto-repair shop and continues to specialize in German cars.

I asked John how much it would cost to restore the Beetle’s faded blue beauty. The neighbors have been dropping gentle hints. How presumptuous. The Beetle has been part of the neighborhood before any of them were. John glanced at the car. “A 1967”, he said, “it would cost $3,000 to $5,000, depending on how much work you want done.” I was ready to move. As the diamond ads say, you can’t put a price on love.

John looked up at the overcast sky. “You probably want to wait until April. We’ll have to take the glass off and the inside will be exposed.” That’s another reason I like going to Fred’s---they’re not hungry to make a sale. April will come soon enough. © 2006 Stephen Yuen