My Car Guy

As I was driving to work yesterday, behind a completely incompetent Acura who's idea of traffic fun was to speed up to the bumper of the car in front of him, and quickly slam on his brakes, starting a chain reaction of brake lights down the left hand lane of 395, I heard that dreaded sound...the squeal of metal on metal, as my brakes cried out in agony at the pressing of my foot into the brake pedal.


Yup, my brake pads are down to the bone. And what was my very first thought upon hearing the squeal? "Shoot...I better call Dad and tell him my brake pads need to be changed".


You know how people always talk about taking their cars to their "car guy" when they have troubles? Well, Dad's my "car guy". From the very first time I ever positioned myself behind the wheel of my Dad's (which became my brother's and then mine) 1990 Gold Toyota 4Runner (you know, back when they made Toyota's strong and didn't recall all the parts), I never had to worry about a car problem. From dirt and dents to blown speakers and broken air conditioners, my dad fixed 'em all. He is a car genius. He can change the oil in any car -- no matter the make and model -- with one hand tied behind his back, blindfolded, while carrying on a conversation about the last Redskins game. As soon as the temperature outside reaches 50 degrees, Dad is outside fiddling with the cars, washing them, tuning them...you name it. You'd be amiss to find one of my dad's cars looking anything less than spotless...and oh, your check engine light just came on? He can probably tell you why.


So yesterday afternoon I shot an email to my dad to tell him about my sad, squealing brakes and ask what I should do. At first I thought he might tell me to ask my husband, since you know, I'm a big "married" girl now. I thought he might tell me to call the dealership. Or at the very worst, recommend I go to Jiffy Lube. But I should have never doubted his reply, because he responded with: "Have Todd go to the Advanced Auto and get a set of front disk brake pads for your car.....I can put them on this week end....supposed to be nice this week end."


While I have no idea what "front disk brake pads" are, and I kind of don't think Todd does either, I figured we could roam around Advanced Auto Parts and call my dad from the store for clarification.

Dad must have sensed my uncertainty (or rather my huge lack of excitement for going to the Auto store) because this morning, he emailed me "hmm...maybe I should just go buy the brake pads for you. I'll only charge you parts...labor is free". Needless to say, I took him up on the offer. And volunteered to compensate his labor with a little McDonald's Dollar Menu lunch.

Seriously -- I have THE BEST "car guy" ever. :)