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- Joined
- Apr 13, 2009
- Messages
- 15,226
- Vehicle Year
- '06, '11
- Engine
- 3.0 V6
- Transmission
- Automatic
You know the one. It has a machine shop in the back. I'm lucky, there is still one in my city.
You walk up to the front door. The base of the concrete is starting to disintegrate. The windows haven't been washed since y2k. There are posters cellophane taped to the inside windows that have been there as long as the dirt on the outside windows. The door takes a little effort to pull open. As you walk in the first thing you see is a large German Shepard directly in front of you where the counter space has an opening for the delivery people to come and go. The counter top is an ugly faded orange laminate, pieces of tape struggling to hold the top down at the corners. Some laminate is gone, showing the plywood underneath. Its been gone a long time because the plywood is shiny with years of dirt and greasy hands using it as a help to get on and off the stool. The stool is an old wooden top, tall fourlegged piece of antiquity, placed in front of and to the side of the cash register. There are some signs of present day, a card swipe for credit or debit, but no tap. Along the front window are display cases. One has different cans of paint, cleaners, degreasers, adhesives, etc. Most have a 1/8" of dust on them. Farther along are open shelves, stacked with customers orders that are being delivered that day, or are ready to be picked up. Farther on there are more displays of brass fittings, windshield wipers, battery ends, flywheel spacers and various other small parts that the customer might need on the spur of the moment. The far wall has more robust shelving holding various machined parts, a pair of Ford 460 heads, an old Chrysler block, some more heads that belong on some kind of industrial engine. Turning your attention to the counterman Mike, he has a three day scruff and is dressed casually in denim pants and a loose fitting long-sleeved shirt. He knows your name because you've been dealing with this parts place for years. Mike knows his stuff. If you're not quite sure how something is supposed to go together, he most likely can tell you. He also works at home on his farm raising cattle. If you have a question for the machinist, Mike directs you to go in the back and talk to the machinist yourself. There is no sign saying keep out for your own safety or insurance purposes. You walk down a narrow concrete pathway to a double door. Not 2 doors but one of those doors that split in half horizontally, with a small shelf on the top of the bottom half. Through there is concrete that is clean, but stained almost black with decades of oil and grease and dirt being tracked in. To the right is a washbay for initial cleaning of engine blocks and other engine parts. Past that is a hot tank. In front of you is a bunch of shelving with parts scattered about. Some heads being taken apart, or maybe put together. You're not close enough to tell. To the right of the bench is a lathe, then a surface mill, a couple different drill presses, and various other machining tools. You see Joe the machinist and pass a bit of time getting re-acquainted since the last time you were in the shop. He has found you some good used pistons for the cheap-ass rebuild you're in the middle of. Farther off is an old guy fixing some old shoes for large truck or tractor drum brakes. They also reline clutches. Not too many places do that any more. There are a couple apprentices in other rooms doing something, but you can't see what. Back out front you grab a cup of coffee from an old drip style coffee maker. Its free. Tho they do take donations for the coffee fund. You sit on the stool and wait for Mike to finish up with other customers. Eventually he's has time to talk. You bullshit about the current polititions and what airheads they are. If they would only do this ______ the country would be much better off. Finally you square up you're bill and leave until the next time you need parts or advice.
You walk up to the front door. The base of the concrete is starting to disintegrate. The windows haven't been washed since y2k. There are posters cellophane taped to the inside windows that have been there as long as the dirt on the outside windows. The door takes a little effort to pull open. As you walk in the first thing you see is a large German Shepard directly in front of you where the counter space has an opening for the delivery people to come and go. The counter top is an ugly faded orange laminate, pieces of tape struggling to hold the top down at the corners. Some laminate is gone, showing the plywood underneath. Its been gone a long time because the plywood is shiny with years of dirt and greasy hands using it as a help to get on and off the stool. The stool is an old wooden top, tall fourlegged piece of antiquity, placed in front of and to the side of the cash register. There are some signs of present day, a card swipe for credit or debit, but no tap. Along the front window are display cases. One has different cans of paint, cleaners, degreasers, adhesives, etc. Most have a 1/8" of dust on them. Farther along are open shelves, stacked with customers orders that are being delivered that day, or are ready to be picked up. Farther on there are more displays of brass fittings, windshield wipers, battery ends, flywheel spacers and various other small parts that the customer might need on the spur of the moment. The far wall has more robust shelving holding various machined parts, a pair of Ford 460 heads, an old Chrysler block, some more heads that belong on some kind of industrial engine. Turning your attention to the counterman Mike, he has a three day scruff and is dressed casually in denim pants and a loose fitting long-sleeved shirt. He knows your name because you've been dealing with this parts place for years. Mike knows his stuff. If you're not quite sure how something is supposed to go together, he most likely can tell you. He also works at home on his farm raising cattle. If you have a question for the machinist, Mike directs you to go in the back and talk to the machinist yourself. There is no sign saying keep out for your own safety or insurance purposes. You walk down a narrow concrete pathway to a double door. Not 2 doors but one of those doors that split in half horizontally, with a small shelf on the top of the bottom half. Through there is concrete that is clean, but stained almost black with decades of oil and grease and dirt being tracked in. To the right is a washbay for initial cleaning of engine blocks and other engine parts. Past that is a hot tank. In front of you is a bunch of shelving with parts scattered about. Some heads being taken apart, or maybe put together. You're not close enough to tell. To the right of the bench is a lathe, then a surface mill, a couple different drill presses, and various other machining tools. You see Joe the machinist and pass a bit of time getting re-acquainted since the last time you were in the shop. He has found you some good used pistons for the cheap-ass rebuild you're in the middle of. Farther off is an old guy fixing some old shoes for large truck or tractor drum brakes. They also reline clutches. Not too many places do that any more. There are a couple apprentices in other rooms doing something, but you can't see what. Back out front you grab a cup of coffee from an old drip style coffee maker. Its free. Tho they do take donations for the coffee fund. You sit on the stool and wait for Mike to finish up with other customers. Eventually he's has time to talk. You bullshit about the current polititions and what airheads they are. If they would only do this ______ the country would be much better off. Finally you square up you're bill and leave until the next time you need parts or advice.
