Confessions of a Drugstore Car Guy

By Carroll G. Anderson
June, 2010

Last month I “confessed” I thought it is nice to have access to goods and services provided by Car Guys who’s interests are similar to mine. Overall I’ve had pretty good luck in finding what I need and in dealing with the Car Guys that had it. If there’s any cloud around this silver lining, however, it seems to be my fault; I apparently don’t give off the right Car Guy vibe. I just don’t show up on real Car Guys’ radar.

The other day I drove over to a Performance shop in my area. I parked my Old Car right in front so it could be seen by anyone looking out the front door. I thought maybe that would establish that I hadn’t just fallen off the turnip truck; that I, too, was a Car Guy. No such luck; turns out my bona fides cut no cheese what-so-ever!

There were a trio of customer Car Guys in the shop when I got there; looked to me like a set. They were being attentively attended to by the guy who runs the place and no wonder; they were obviously talking about spending some big bucks. The guy who mans the counter was also at his station, tending to whatever business counter-tenders-to tend to when . . . well, you know.

I started looking over the stuff they had hanging from the walls, bits and pieces sandwiched between cardboard and impregnable clear plastic. I was still looking at the wall hangers when the trio took off. Then it was just me, the guy who runs the place and the counter-guy. Did I mention the space was about the size of a McMansion master bath? In any case, they apparently didn’t notice me examining their stock of shrink-wrapped stuff.

I have no doubt there’s a lot of business-related business that the crew of a business like that need to discuss; inventory and accounting issues that need to be resolved, etc. And, for the next ten minutes or so that’s what they did. I continued looking at the wall hangings. Eventually, however, I decided I’d waited long enough to not be noticed and I left. It’s OK, though, since I didn’t find anything hanging on the wall that I wanted to buy.

I’d like to think I’m not so insignificant that, in a space the size of a single car garage, I could go completely un-noticed for 15 minutes. I know it wasn’t the way I was dressed, I had on my best lavender shirt. In retrospect, I probably should have been wearing something a little more noticeable. Like a cropped Metallica t-shirt that showed off the “I Hemis” tattoo right above my plumber’s crack.

Actually, while that get-up might have worked at some of the Salvage Yards I’ve visited, it would have done no good at this particular shop. No, there I should have dressed like a preppy Lawyer and parked a Z-06 in the spot where I put my Old Car. A fat bank account and a new Corvette would have all the right stuff to get those guys’ attention! In a place that gets $120/hour to maximize your ride’s performance the $6.95 I was looking to spend for a breather grommet didn’t warrant much attention.

A lot of the blame for this whole situation is mine; I didn’t have to get into a snit and not ask for help. I chose the passive/aggressive route. Also it was obvious I was looking for something that didn’t cost much; there was some high-dollar stuff lying around that I ignored completely. Drooling over a NOS System or an EFI Conversion would have increased my attractiveness considerably. I could have even worn my gold “750” necklace outside my purple shirt.

All of the money we spend at a place like this speed shop is discretionary, we don’t have to spend it and we certainly don’t have to spend it there. It’s not like changing the timing belt on the Honda or buying a set of tires for the minivan. The money we spend on Old Cars (or new Z-06’s), whether for bling, performance or whatever can always be not spent.

Any small business that caters to hobbyists, that provides goods and services that are wanted rather than needed, must be aware of the precariousness of their position. According to the Small Business Administration, only 44 percent (of new businesses) survive at least four years and one of leading causes of failure is poor customer service. If I were in this business I’d make sure that the red carpet got rolled out for every customer, even the ornery old guy in a purple shirt driving the raggedy “survivor!”