My Fury Friend

When I returned to New Hampshire 16 years ago, I was driving a 1978 green Plymouth Fury.  I loved that car.  It was big, it was an ugly shade of green, but it was the most reliable car I had driven since selling my 1981 Toyota Corolla 4 years previously.  My husband was a mechanic, an extremely good one, who had this annoying habit of buying junk cars, making me drive them around while he fixed them up, then selling them when they were in fine running condition.  In my 4 years of living with the man, I became quite accustomed to driving some of the most unreliable cars. The Fury was the best of the bunch, and luckily I left my husband before he had the chance to sell it. 

Not long after moving to New Hampshire, being a single mother of a toddler and an infant, with no job, very limited money and knowing very few people, I found myself in need of a mechanic, a fair one, one I could trust.  I had worked in the auto business before so I knew enough about cars that I felt confident I wouldn't be conned by someone, but I still needed to find someone I felt I could trust.  I took a look at the yellow pages and decided to take a chance on an independent service station.  What I found was a gem.

I lived in Brickstone Commons at the time, right across from Arnie's on the Heights.  The service station I picked was near Hall Street, nearly all the way across town.  I'm still not sure why I picked someone so far from my apartment, perhaps it was just fate.  I was not one to look for handouts, and that included a ride home.  I drove to the service station, dropped off the car, packed the baby into a stroller and my daughter and I walked back to Brickstone Commons, nearly a 3 mile walk.  When it came time to pick up the car, we walked back.  The mechanic took one look at us on our return and asked if we had walked the whole way. Not only had I found someone fair and honest, he made sure I always had a ride to wherever I needed to get. 

My beloved Fury began giving me problems about a year later.  One cold, wet night on Thanksgiving eve it quit on me while driving down Loudon Road.  Anyone who has ever driven on Loudon Road in Concord will know what a horrible plight it is to be driving on this road let alone break down there.  Again, I was with my two youngsters and desperate.  I found a phone nearby and called my mechanic.  It was after hours but he happened to still be at the shop doing paperwork.  He arrived in less than 15 minutes.  My alternator had quit and my battery was dead.  He stood on Loudon Road in the pouring cold rain and got my car going so that I could at least get it out of the middle of the road. When I asked him how much I owed him, he said I didn't have to pay him anything.  I was so thrilled, I hugged the man right there in the middle of traffic on Loudon Road. 

When my Fury lost reverse and I was told I'd need a whole new transmission, I ended up trading it for a horrible, beat up Ford Aerostar.  What a horror show that scenario turned out to be.  It is one of the few regrets I have in this life, that I didn't just keep the Fury and spend the money to fix the transmission. Instead, the van gave me nothing but problems.  One day while driving up the hill on Loudon Road from the Fort Eddy intersection, the van began to lose power and smoke started pouring out of the engine.  People driving by thought it was on fire and stopped at the fire station to tell the firemen to rush out to rescue us.  I was never so embarrassed in my life.  Again, I called my mechanic and within a few minutes he was there in a Winnebago because that was all he had at the garage that he could drive.  The van ended up having to get towed to the garage, but he gave me and my children a ride home.  

Eventually I started working at a dealership and would have any work on my cars done at my work.  Although I rarely took my cars to the old service station anymore, I would stop by with treats from time to time.  I never forgot the generosity or compassion of the mechanic who had bailed me out so many times without ever wanting anything extra.  Since my S.O. works in the auto business, I still take my car to the dealership for work, but I still think of Steve and his crew often.   They now have a shop on South Main Street since the old shop burned down a few years back.  It's called Steve and Dave's Tire & Auto Service. I know I haven't been there lately, but I still love you guys!  You helped renew my faith in the general goodness of people.