Driveway Guy's car blew a head gasket some time later (I heard all about it from Megan, who had to walk home five miles in the rain while he tried to finagle a tow), and the truck he'd been working on finally showed up in the driveway.
It was a compact truck, nothing like the jacked-up F-150 from before. (This was the truck he parked on the back lawn and ran into the house, breaking the siding - on my list of summer projects.) After a short period of time, he got a cap for it at well, though he was still sleeping in the cab.
He handed me a business card one day, with his cell phone number advertising his services as a "handyman". "You need anything done, just let me know."
I had hopes this was a sign for the positive - there was significantly less barf in the driveway, the handyman business seemed to be starting up, so I had hopes that maybe he was getting his life together.
The downside was, with the weather warming up, the usual crew of people hanging out with Driveway Guy was no longer limited to who could fit in his truck. I started parking on the street after finding a beer can inside my car, which I distinctly remembered locking the night before.
And then one day, driving home, I was passed by Driveway Guy heading the opposite direction at top speed and driving like his ass was on fire. I pulled into the driveway, and looked down at the deep gouges in the driveway from where he'd clearly pulled out in a hurry.
He passed by the house slowly, but when he started to pull in, the door to Mary's apartment swung open, and Savannah, the younger daughter (16), came running out. "I meant it, you goddamn fucking bastard!!!!!!! I've got my phone RIGHT FUCKING HERE!!!!!"
A squeal of tires, and he was gone.
She looked at me, and I looked at her. "Holy crap - what did he do?"
She glared at his tailgate as he sped down the road. "Bastard stole my debit card and took out about 60 bucks. Told him if I ever saw him here again I was pressing charges of breaking and entering and theft."
"That's serious."
"Yep. And since he's still on probation...that's some serious jail time. It's worth the 60 bucks to have him out of my sister's life. I'm amazed you never called when he was smoking weed in the driveway."
I shrugged. "If he'd been alone, I would have. Megan was always with him."
She nodded. "Well, he won't be coming back."
And he didn't. Megan started seeing another guy a few months later, and I saw her in the foyer doing laundry. She looked a lot healthier - no bags under the eyes, smiling - and I told her.
"Yeah, everyone was kinda worried about me. But thanks."
I keep scanning the local paper to see if he shows up in the court rundown, but nothing so far. Fingers crossed it stays that way.
Tuesday, May 20, 2014
Saturday, May 10, 2014
Trusting Driveway Guy to Repair My Car
So Driveway Guy's previous occupation (other than meth dealer) was auto mechanic. He worked at a local shop for a few months prior to actually moving in to the driveway, and he briefly mentioned to me at one point that if I ever needed work done on my Civic, he was a former certified Honda mechanic, and that he'd be more than happy to do what needed to get done.
About a month after that, as I was driving the inner loop to get off at St. Paul, I pressed on the brake, and the pedal went straight to the floor. I used the emergency brake to get the rest of the way to school, got some brake fluid at a nearby auto shop, and limped the rest of the way home.
I rolled the car in, and tapped on Driveway Guy's window. "I might have a job for you," I said. "What do you know about brakes?"
He smiled. "My specialty."
He had me re-fill the reservoir, and then pump the brakes. He looked around at the underneath, and came up smiling. "Yeah, the lines to the back brakes are split. Easy fix - I can do it for you for about 140 bucks - huge savings on a shop."
I nodded. "How fast can you do it? I need my car to drive back and forth to work."
He paused. "It's Friday. I should be able to get the parts and have it ready for you by Monday. I can even fix it right here in the driveway."
"Sounds like a deal," I said. I was a little short of cash at the time, and a cheap repair sounded ideal.
My next door neighbor thought I was nuts for entrusting my car to Driveway Guy, and told me so in no uncertain terms. I told him I was broke, and if he could do it quick and cheap I was all for it.
"It's back brakes anyway," my neighbor said. "You don't need them. You want quick and cheap, just tie off the lines and do them right before your inspection."
That idea made me nervous, but so did the complete absence of Driveway Guy for the weekend. He pulled in on Sunday, and I knocked on the car door.
"Oooooh...dude, right. Ummmm...the lines are at a friend's house, and I had a really busy kinda day...so I didn't get a chance to get them. I'll have them for you tomorrow."
I asked him if it would help if I stopped by a parts store and picked up the lines, and he said no, he's got them and it's ok.
In the meantime, however, I still had to get to work. I quickly made a phone call to my ex/estranged/yeahitscomplicated wife, and asked if I could borrow her car for a few days.
She paused. "Ummm...you can have it until Wednesday night. I really really need it back then."
I also promised to run errands, and do whatever she needed done until then, since she'd be without a car.
Driveway guy was watching TV on his laptop when I came back down, and I told him I had a car until Wednesday. "Can you get it done by then?"
He nodded. "Sure, sure...absolutely. Like I said, I can get the parts from my friend tomorrow, and I'll have it done for you most likely tomorrow."
This continued on for the next three days. I'd get home from school, and Driveway Guy would have various laments, from needing to work on his own truck to the friend with the parts disappearing in a drug haze. I spoke with a teacher at school about the situation, and he laughed at me for trusting Driveway Guy in the first place with my car.
Finally, I broke down and called a shop to find out what the cost of getting the brake lines replaced would be.
"About 85 bucks a line," the guy said, "assuming we don't find anything else wrong."
I returned the car to my ex, and finally gave Driveway Guy an ultimatum. "Look," I told him, "You said you could do it quick, and it's been four days. I had to give my ex her car back, and I'm having to take tomorrow off because I have no way to get to work. By the end of the day tomorrow, I either need my car fixed or my key back so I can take it to a shop."
He nodded. "Got it - I'm off to go get the parts now."
Late that night, I hear his car screech in to the driveway, and Driveway Guy and his girlfriend cursing at each other over something he was supposed to do for her, which apparently didn't get done. There was shouting that continued on into the house, and door slamming. I finally drifted off to sleep.
The next morning I woke up, and looked out the window to see my car up on jacks, but no sign of Driveway Guy. I did some reading and catch-up work while waiting to see if Driveway Guy showed up, or thinking how to negotiate getting my car off the jacks with a tow truck driver.
He finally arrived, his car sounding much louder that in had before. "Yeah, did a little bit of a speed run over dirt roads last night - Megan's not happy with me over it. But I'll get your car fixed today."
All told, it took him about an hour once he had the parts. He beamed at me when I came back down after the car was off the jacks.
"Rotated the tires for ya, too." (Side note - tires needed replacement due to massive misalignment when I finally got rid of the car due to massive failure of, well, just about everything, four months later.)
"Great," I said. "Will be nice to be able to stop the car again."
"So," he said, "that will be $140 for labor, and another hundred for parts..."
I raised my eyebrow. "No, you never mentioned $140 being labor only."
He shrugged. "Price it out at a shop."
"I did. Yesterday."
We looked at each other for a moment, and then he nodded. "$140, then."
I handed him the cash, and he handed me my key. "Thanks," I said.
"Anytime. You need anything else done on it, just let me know."
I tested out the car, and it seemed to work pretty well. But when it developed a starter issue a few weeks later, I delicately asked the girlfriend's mother about how to handle Driveway Guy when he saw it on the tow truck.
"Fuck him - don't worry about it. I was pissed you encouraged him by letting him fix it at all."
I nodded. "Works for me."
He did give me a questioning look when the car wasn't in the driveway for a week (due more to waiting until payday to pick it up rather than the shop taking forever), but I ignored him. It seemed the easiest way to handle it.
Though as it worked out, Driveway Guy was having issues of his own at that point, and it would only be a matter of a couple of months before...The Flight of Driveway Guy.
About a month after that, as I was driving the inner loop to get off at St. Paul, I pressed on the brake, and the pedal went straight to the floor. I used the emergency brake to get the rest of the way to school, got some brake fluid at a nearby auto shop, and limped the rest of the way home.
I rolled the car in, and tapped on Driveway Guy's window. "I might have a job for you," I said. "What do you know about brakes?"
He smiled. "My specialty."
He had me re-fill the reservoir, and then pump the brakes. He looked around at the underneath, and came up smiling. "Yeah, the lines to the back brakes are split. Easy fix - I can do it for you for about 140 bucks - huge savings on a shop."
I nodded. "How fast can you do it? I need my car to drive back and forth to work."
He paused. "It's Friday. I should be able to get the parts and have it ready for you by Monday. I can even fix it right here in the driveway."
"Sounds like a deal," I said. I was a little short of cash at the time, and a cheap repair sounded ideal.
My next door neighbor thought I was nuts for entrusting my car to Driveway Guy, and told me so in no uncertain terms. I told him I was broke, and if he could do it quick and cheap I was all for it.
"It's back brakes anyway," my neighbor said. "You don't need them. You want quick and cheap, just tie off the lines and do them right before your inspection."
That idea made me nervous, but so did the complete absence of Driveway Guy for the weekend. He pulled in on Sunday, and I knocked on the car door.
"Oooooh...dude, right. Ummmm...the lines are at a friend's house, and I had a really busy kinda day...so I didn't get a chance to get them. I'll have them for you tomorrow."
I asked him if it would help if I stopped by a parts store and picked up the lines, and he said no, he's got them and it's ok.
In the meantime, however, I still had to get to work. I quickly made a phone call to my ex/estranged/yeahitscomplicated wife, and asked if I could borrow her car for a few days.
She paused. "Ummm...you can have it until Wednesday night. I really really need it back then."
I also promised to run errands, and do whatever she needed done until then, since she'd be without a car.
Driveway guy was watching TV on his laptop when I came back down, and I told him I had a car until Wednesday. "Can you get it done by then?"
He nodded. "Sure, sure...absolutely. Like I said, I can get the parts from my friend tomorrow, and I'll have it done for you most likely tomorrow."
This continued on for the next three days. I'd get home from school, and Driveway Guy would have various laments, from needing to work on his own truck to the friend with the parts disappearing in a drug haze. I spoke with a teacher at school about the situation, and he laughed at me for trusting Driveway Guy in the first place with my car.
Finally, I broke down and called a shop to find out what the cost of getting the brake lines replaced would be.
"About 85 bucks a line," the guy said, "assuming we don't find anything else wrong."
I returned the car to my ex, and finally gave Driveway Guy an ultimatum. "Look," I told him, "You said you could do it quick, and it's been four days. I had to give my ex her car back, and I'm having to take tomorrow off because I have no way to get to work. By the end of the day tomorrow, I either need my car fixed or my key back so I can take it to a shop."
He nodded. "Got it - I'm off to go get the parts now."
Late that night, I hear his car screech in to the driveway, and Driveway Guy and his girlfriend cursing at each other over something he was supposed to do for her, which apparently didn't get done. There was shouting that continued on into the house, and door slamming. I finally drifted off to sleep.
The next morning I woke up, and looked out the window to see my car up on jacks, but no sign of Driveway Guy. I did some reading and catch-up work while waiting to see if Driveway Guy showed up, or thinking how to negotiate getting my car off the jacks with a tow truck driver.
He finally arrived, his car sounding much louder that in had before. "Yeah, did a little bit of a speed run over dirt roads last night - Megan's not happy with me over it. But I'll get your car fixed today."
All told, it took him about an hour once he had the parts. He beamed at me when I came back down after the car was off the jacks.
"Rotated the tires for ya, too." (Side note - tires needed replacement due to massive misalignment when I finally got rid of the car due to massive failure of, well, just about everything, four months later.)
"Great," I said. "Will be nice to be able to stop the car again."
"So," he said, "that will be $140 for labor, and another hundred for parts..."
I raised my eyebrow. "No, you never mentioned $140 being labor only."
He shrugged. "Price it out at a shop."
"I did. Yesterday."
We looked at each other for a moment, and then he nodded. "$140, then."
I handed him the cash, and he handed me my key. "Thanks," I said.
"Anytime. You need anything else done on it, just let me know."
I tested out the car, and it seemed to work pretty well. But when it developed a starter issue a few weeks later, I delicately asked the girlfriend's mother about how to handle Driveway Guy when he saw it on the tow truck.
"Fuck him - don't worry about it. I was pissed you encouraged him by letting him fix it at all."
I nodded. "Works for me."
He did give me a questioning look when the car wasn't in the driveway for a week (due more to waiting until payday to pick it up rather than the shop taking forever), but I ignored him. It seemed the easiest way to handle it.
Though as it worked out, Driveway Guy was having issues of his own at that point, and it would only be a matter of a couple of months before...The Flight of Driveway Guy.
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