Caught in the Act

A walk to Sewanee Auto to pick up my car was a bit slower than I intended. First, there was the ladder truck at the dorm up the street. I had to make sure it was just practice (I'm pretty sure it was). Then there were the hyacinths popping up out of a renewed bed at the corner of the drive up to the Chapel of the Apostles. The Superintendent of Landscape Planning & Operations, a great guy, has done such spectacular work, and every season I see something new. Then there was the yellow fixture above the speed limit sign on Tennessee. Red-yellow, blue sky: what's not to like? I finally made it to University Avenue, but stopped twice to admire flowers and once to photograph the side mirror of a truck, all at three different homes. Just before passing Otey, I noticed the reflection of the steeple in the stained glass window I photographed a few days ago. Outside the post office, I noticed the vertical shadows and horizontal blinds, and walked in. I started snapping, and suddenly heard, "Saw the light, right?" The Vice-Chancellor's wife noticed what I had. "I did! I sure hope it's not illegal to photograph post boxes." "Surely not," she replied. Even after paying for my car, I couldn't get in it because the gaudy chartreuse crosswalk sign was reflected in Locals' window, requiring my amble across the street.

Sometimes I wonder how I get anything done.

Why Get All Het Up?

In the grand scheme of things, a crowd at the local garage/service station is no big deal.

Especially when one window looks like this in afternoon sun.

Sewanee Auto

The Thomases, who live in Lynchburg, own and operate Sewanee Auto, the best garage I have ever used. (And I mean ever.)

Harold is so honest, in fact, that a former boss fired him when he refused to do unnecessary work to a customer's car, even when that boss had demanded he do so.

Several years ago, my car developed a slow power steering fluid leak. Harold took the whole steering system apart and found a tiny crack. By the time the part arrived, my brother and a friend had convinced me to drive around with steering fluid to save money. When I went in to tell Harold what I had decided, he laughed and said he'd do the same thing. He sent the part back and never charged anything -- for his labor or his trouble.

This morning, I took my car in for an oil change and tire rotation and balance. When I picked it up after only an hour, Harold chided me, laughing, "Robley, you've driven that car 13,000 miles since your last oil change!" He remembers the 100,000 mile tune-up, my only tune-up since buying the car in 2000. At that time, he said, "I put the special 100,000-mile spark plugs in for you!"

I love the Thomases. They supply free candy, a weekly drawing for $20 worth of gas, reasonable prices, quality mechanics, good humor, and friendship. They are one reason why living in a small town is so good.