For those of you who don't already know me, I drive a huge car. A 1984 pontiac parisienne, with 226,000 miles, a 350 cubic in small block v-8, a slightly modified quadrajet carburetor, and the Ralph Lauren interior. That's right, the former ecoterrorist drives a huge wasteful tank. Why? Well, that's a complicated answer.

I bought it from a beloved friend for 700 $ before he moved to Alaska. I was kind of broke and had just busted the front axle of my jeep. He let me pay him 400 and the next 300 he got in Fiji. I know how to fix everything on it. It has a small block chevy, an engine I believe in the way a Southern Baptist minister believes in the word of God. Parts for it are available everywhere and cheap. If you are not familiar with the car it is identical to the Chevy caprice that every cop and cabbie drove in the late eighties. The ecoterrorist rationalizes that not expending resources to build a new car in some way balances the wastefulness of the pontiac. I may yet prove to be correct.

I was driving this fine steed (all by myself, no less) to Cleveland from Buffalo at 0630. It hadn't been driven in at least six weeks, necesitating a jump from my brother. I had apparently left the GPS on that functions as a speedometer(p.s. we should all thank the President for finally clueing in and signing the executive order to shut off Selective Availability). My little brother being the conscientious sort that he is, felt that we should let it charge a bit before we started the beast up. Blammo, up she roars then off I go.

Just over one hundred miles away at the NY-PA border I notice that my GPS/ speedometer has shut itself off. While I push the power to turn it back on, the radio goes off. Then as I flick on the turn signal to pull over at the first exit in PA I notice that there is not even enough voltage to make the turn signal relays click. As I coast off the exit manage to get into the parking lot of the gas station/service center before my engine just shuts down down due to lack of voltage to run the distributor. They have a two bay service center there, and a tow truck. They won't do alternator work. They agree with my assessment of the problem. They point me to another place "that white building over there on top of that little rise". Then they charge me $10.60 to borrow their battery charger to jump the car and make it the quarter mile to the place where "they'll be able to take care of ya, son".

The sad part of all this is that I have a spare alternator and all the tools necessary to replace the obviously bad one. I normally travel with them in the trunk. The only hitch is, I took them and most of my other spares out of the trunk and put them on a shelf in my father-in-law's barn six weeks or so ago to fit
something in my trunk. I forgot about them until just as the engine died. So I am at the mercy of the folks at the white building at the top of the rise.

Which turns out to be A + B Service Center of 5452 Station rd. Northeast, PA 16428. I leave the car running and walk inside. After I finish telling the proprietor what happened and what I think is wrong he assure me that he can help. He has a car in each of his garages on a lift in varying states of disassembly, so I am instructed to just pull up close to the first bay and leave it running.

He puts the tester on it, and confirms my suspicions. "Go ahead and shut it down. Well,.... I can order a rebuilt one from town. They'll definitely have it. Prolly get it this afternoon. If ya don't mind used I could get ya fixed up right quick."

Hell yeah I took used.

While I sat on the trunklid, working my way through Cryptonomicon for something like the sixth time, he installed not one but two alternators, "on account of I didn't like the output numbers of the first one". He then took me inside, charged me fifty dollars even, and wished me a safe trip. At his posted labor rate of $42/hr I don't think he even covered labor.

I drove away feeling a little like I had just pulled some kind of trick, like Alec Guinness saying calmly "these are not the robots you are looking for". As I drove further I realized that I was wrong. I had just come across a decent, honest, auto repair shop that gave good measure. They exist, they just aren't as common as we might like.