In 1996 I drove an '88 Subaru wagon. Great car for a college kid who didn't know a thing about cars and needed a reliable gear transport for various road adventures. That summer I had an adventure I wasn't expecting. I had driven to work that morning and as I crested a hill I felt a
I checked the rear view mirror, and he had turned all the way around to keep staring at me as I drove by. I thought, "What the hell is that guy's problem?" and kept on toward home. Later that night I drove to my friend Darren's house where he and his girlfriend came out to meet me. She said "Jason, there's something under your car" and my friend got down on the ground to take a look. All I heard was his burst of laughter at the site of two feet, a torso, and a tail emerging from the center of the bottom of my car. We thought it may have been a squirrel, and Darren poked it a bit with a stick. The stick poking wasn't very diagnostic, so we went on with our business and the next day I took it to Finley's service station.
Mark Finley is a great guy and a great mechanic. Despite having a full schedule that day, I asked him "Do you think you'll be able to fit me in today?" to which he replied, "What going on with your car?" I thought about it a second and told him that he had better see for himself. Mark knelt down to look at the underside of my car. "We'd better take care of this now," he said. I couldn't have agreed more.
Mark told me to drive it around to bay number two. I did, and was met by a mechanic who asked Mark what we were doing to the car. Mark replied, "Put it up on the lift Earl." Earl took my keys and drove it forward and began honking the horn, flicking the lights, using the turn signal... Mark yelled, "It's not an inspection Earl, just put it up on the lift." Earl, noticibly skeptical, hit the switch for the lift. As my car rose into the air, I could hear in my mind the orchestra from 2001: A Space Oddessy... buuuum buuUUM bUUUM... DA DAAAAA. As my car got to eye level, every soul in the shop stopped what they were working on and their attention turned to the sight of those two feet, a torso, and a tail begin lifted into the air. "That's a damned groundhog!" he exclaimed. Earl then turned to me.
"Is this your car?" he asked, noticibly digruntled this time. "y y Yes, it is. I tried to get it out myself, but couldn't", I lied. Earl then grabbed what I think every good mechanic carries in his back pocket, and that's a greasy red rag. He wrapped the rag around the tail of the poor beast and started, with increasing vigor, to push - pull - yank - and tug the tail of the groundhog. It didn't budge. Earl then grabbed the biggest screwdriver I had ever seen. It must have been four feet long. He wedged the screw driver up against the drive shaft of the car, and with both hands started to rock and roll the whole car trying to shake that groundhog loose. Defeated, he decided to attack on several fronts. He wrapped the rag around the tail of the animal with his left hand, took the screwdriver in his right and started working both hand furiously back and forth, in circles, up and down, until finally, POP! out came the ground hog and old Earl jumped back and I swear I heard a little high pitched squeal come out of him.
Earl picked up the groundhog with the rag, and in defiance tried to hand it to me. "Here you go." "I don't want it, can't we throw it out?" I said. Earl gave the beast its last rites by tossing it in the dumpster, and went to wash his hands, or possible have a drink to calm his nerves.
I didn't go back to Finley's Service Station for three years after the incident. I don't know why. I guess I didn't want to be known as the groundhog guy, or maybe I thought they would charge me some sort of "beyond the call of duty" tax on any other work I had done. I think Mark enjoyed seeing the whole ordeal, because he didnt' charge me anything for it, saying "Just having this story is enough payment for me."
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