Last Friday, after going to pick up the car that we had repaired for the mother of the four kids currently in our charge, I discovered that the brakes seemed soft. I went in to talk to the mechanic about it and he agreed. He was going to investigate it and said he’d get back to me in about an hour. I decided to walk down to the local pub and grab lunch while I waited (in case it was a simple fix. . . which we all knew would not likely be the case).
I sat at the bar and the bartender, being a good bartender, made a couple of recommendations and took my order. It was literally only five minutes before I had my salad and BBQ pulled pork sandwich in front of me. At this point, I made the tongue in cheek comment that I was trying to kill an hour and she wasn’t doing a good job with helping me. She then asked me if I was waiting on a car to get fixed and next thing I know I’m telling the whole story. Did I mention that she was a good bartender?
I took my time eating, looking at my phone, waiting for the text to come in from the mechanic and about 30 minutes later, I got the text. The rotor and caliper needs replacing and it would be another couple of hours before it was done. I decided I’d Uber back home and asked for the check. Instead of giving me a check, she handed me this little folded up note and told me that it had been taken care of by some people sitting down the bar from me (who had left by this point).