Gentleman's Garage

Even though I distinctly heard in our marriage vows that Mr. Weston would be responsible for all car care, given our varied travel schedules, invariably there have been times when I have to take my car to the garage.

Up until about a year ago this was palatable.  I would go to a local garage that I called "the gentleman's garage."  Meaning:

 

• If it was raining,  someone would come up to the car with an umbrella.  One was then escorted to the waiting room.

 

• The waiting room had not only coffee but tea! 

 

• There were magazines like House Beautiful, Elle Décor, and Vogue. 

 

• Comfy recliners to sit in while waiting.

 

• Classical music playing and NO ANNOYING TV!

 

• Often there was a vase of flowers on the table with the magazines.

• The service manager was willing to talk to Mr. Weston where ever he was via my cellphone about things such as oil grade, junk in an air filter, or parts that needed to be replaced.

I thought all of these things to be most gentlemanly and most considerate.  Overall, the garage was women-centric and thus the waiting room was always filled with women. 

The benefits besides having my car attended to?

• I heard about the most wonderful yoga class

• Got some great tips for rose growing

• Made a friend for life over a discussion of The King's Speech

Well, all of this was just dandy until the proprietor of the garage decided to retire and move to Florida.  I was just devastated! 

Now, when Mr. Weston is not around, I am forced to go to a garage where:

• One is stuffed into a waiting room the size of a bathroom.

 

• A TV is blaring the most innocuous and disturbing news.

 

• Hard chairs that are linked together so that one is sitting in the personal space of another patron.

 

• A camera on one's car which one can watch on a TV screen - that is all the explanation that one gets about any repair.

 

I just had my oil changed last week and can only say that I dearly miss my gentleman's garage.