Auto Repair

From the poetry collection published in 2015, Spring Cleaning.

Auto Repair

Stopped at the traffic light
beside a tan stucco building
Steel front door painted mostly blue and chipped
Propped open.
Potholed asphalt parking lot right up to the building
A seam line of sprouting dandelions holding the two together.
Auto Repair Garage, the sign says.
I admire the simplicity of it.
I say
Yes, I see that.
It’s dark inside the door but
I get a glimpse of
an orange counter along the side wall
Windows I can’t see silhouette a guy
Needs his car fixed, he does.
Well, you know what it’s like in there,
don’t you
Smell the oil rubber grease hot metal
Hear the compressor the squeal of the lift the radio
The phone ringing no one answering it
The phone ringing again no one hearing it
over the bzzt bzzt bzzt
of the pneumatic wrench.
The traffic light changes. I move on and
take that garage with me.

Old truck, photograph with digital enhancement, 2015.


10 thoughts on “Auto Repair

  1. Thank you. I love garages and always have, and not really for any reason (although I was the one in my family, growing up, who took the cars to the garage and waited for them to get finished, don’t know how that happened! I used to sit and read a book next to the office, out on the floor…)

  2. Thank you. My grandfather owned a gas station in a small town in the 1930-1960’s, I guess, next door to their house. But I think I got my liking for them from taking our cars to be fixed when I was a teenager (this was my job for some reason when I learned to drive…) I liked it. Usually I sat and read a book and listened and watched the place work!

  3. I think in this kind of work people get into a rhythm, there are many repetitive movements and little adjustments. It maybe has rubbed off on me, something I have remembered from all my visits, for me to put it here.?

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