Junkyard Pet Peeves #2

"Do you have a mirror for my Cadillac?"

"Which mirror do you need?"

"There's more than one mirror?"

"There's a left door mirror, a right door mirror and the center mirror."

"I want the mirror with the little light in it."

"The mirror with the little light in it? Are you talking about the turn indicator light?"

"What's a turn indicator light?"

"You know, the light that flashes when you turn on the turn signal."

"My light doesn't flash. It just helps me to see when I do my make-up."

"Oh, you want the vanity mirror, right?

"Are you accusing me of being vain?"

Little House On The Junkyard

Could junkyards become the next paradise-- the next chic place to be, the next yuppie yearning, urban sheik way to live? I know it might seem a little strange but just imagine if all your neighbors were wrecked Chryslers, worn out Nissans and rusted out Chevrolets.

Getting a good night's sleep would be easy because junk cars never party all night.
Getting along with your neighbors would be easy because no one would arrest you if you put them in the crusher.
Their children wouldn't trample through your flower beds.
The only dogs would be your own junkyard dogs.
No one would complain about the noise when you throw your own wild parties.
No one could complain about your keeping junk cars in your yard because your yard would be zoned for junk cars.
The occasional unwanted visitor would be sorely surprised to learn that your dog is a real junkyard dog.
You'd never need to buy gasoline because you could go to work without leaving home and you could go home without leaving work.
Neighbors wouldn't complain if you bought goats instead of a lawn mower.
You could heat your little house on the junkyard for free by burning the waste gasoline and automotive oils from your junk cars in your own EPA compliant waste oil furnace.
And finally, you'd never be late for work because you're always on the job.

Love Me Tender...

The following is a true story, only the names have been changed to protect the foolish.

Steve and I worked together for several years and several different employers. On one of our jobs we hauled junk cars for a late model automotive recycler. The pay was okay and we never worried about having reliable transportation as good used cars and parts were cheap to employees. Those were the sort of perks that came with the job.

Even the man who owned the company drove a car that had once been salvage. Of course his salvaged car was a three month old Sedan De Ville by Cadillac. One morning while the boss was in his office-- before most of the other employees except for us drivers had arrived-- I handed Steve a turn-signal flasher I had ordered from the J.C. Whitney Automotive Mail Order Catalog. “What’s this for?” Steve asked as he looked at the unusually large turn signal flasher.

“It’s a turn signal flasher, Dummy.”

“I know what it is,” Steve replied. “What do you want me to do with it, Dummy?”

“Go put it in the bosses’ car,” I replied. “I’ll make sure he stays in the office.”

“What for?” Steve asked.

“It's musical. It plays Love Me Tender when you turn on the signal,” I replied, my grin giving away the joke I was putting Steve up to.

“You mean like Elvis?” Steve laughed. “You’re shittin’ me...” Steve put the flasher in the socket under the dash of the bosses’ Caddy while I walked inside the boss’ office to ask him some questions to which I already knew the answers.

A few days later the boss asked Steve to drive the Caddy around back so that the shop foreman could take a look at it. “Is something wrong with it?” Steve asked.

“Oh no,” the boss replied. “I just like making sure everything is in good working order before I go out of town.” Steve drove the car to the shop where we had already clued the shop foreman in on the joke. Later that same day we were both washing our trucks when the boss came to pick up his car. Steve, the shop foreman, and I watched as the boss drove away.

It only took about three minutes before the boss came wheeling into the driveway. “Something wrong?” the foreman asked.

“I hate Elvis!” the boss shouted as he turned and walked away. “Billy, I’m driving your truck home tonight. I want my Cadillac fixed before the three of you go home tonight.

“I guess we’ll need this,” Steve said holding the proper turn signal flasher in his hand. “How much overtime you think we can make out of this?” he said as the entire shop crew burst into laughter. The boss didn’t say a word. We both knew he’d pay us back, we looked forward to the challenge.

Slow Day At The Junkyard

It was a slow day at Oscar Jacob's Junkyard and Garage-- so slow he couldn't help but notice the bottle blond drive up in the parking lot. Besides, other than his tow truck, the Porsche was the only car in the parking lot. Oscar met her at the door, "Morning, how can I help you this morning?"

"I need an alternator for my car," the blond replied.

"I can fix you right up, $125 bucks installed," Oscar said with a smile.

"Wow, that's a lot cheaper than the garage up the street."

"You go wait inside the air conditioning and I'll have you fixed-up in just a jiffy," Oscar smiled, "Soft drinks are on the house."

The blond went inside and Oscar went straight to work. A half hour later he went to the door and beckoned the blond, "Come out and look at the repairs, I've got her all fixed up."

"Looks good," the blond exclaimed, "but that's not my car."

"It's not?" Oscar was puzzled. "But it's the only car here."

"That's because my car is at the garage up the street. You just fixed their loaner car."

1923 Pontiac

An old guy walks into the junkyard and asks, "Got any 1923 Pontiacs?"

"Doesn't matter," the counterman replies.

"Why not?" the customer asks.

"'Cause you don't own a 1923 Pontiac," the counterman answers.

"What makes you so smart as to think I don't own a 1923 Pontiac? I know what kind of car I own."

"'Cause they didn't start making Pontiacs until 1926-- that's why not."