The Mechanic who is more than one.

One evening late December, after I recovered my car from the Music Academy parking lot where the valets had left it (conveniently facing forward, of course), I realised, much to my chagrin, that the AC had stopped functioning. It had been just fine when I had driven it in. The very next day, the car refused to even crank. 

I am no automotive engineer or any engineer for that matter. But it has helped to be married to a bright one (though not of the automotive variety).  If it does not crank, it is usually the battery. Some knowledge does waft in via osmosis, it appears (whether my husband senses that, I have no idea).

I called my battery guy, who, nice person that he is, came in immediately, with a spare battery and jump starting cables in hand. He asked me to hop on to the driver’s seat, and attempt cranking. Nothing. He looked in the bonnet. Ah, he said. The cable to the starter motor has been cut. He said he would bring another gentleman in to push the vehicle out and get everything fixed for me. And he did. Promptly. Without multiple reminders. 

When I drove the car though, I felt the steering wheel struggle to turn on one side and the engine noisier than usual. The brake was not nearly responsive either. Now, I called Saravanan, my regular mechanic. He too came in promptly (it is on such occasions that I truly feel blessed), took the car, fixed the AC and a bunch of other major things and brought it back, running as good as new.

By this time, husband had returned from across the seas. Upon listening to a quick podcast of Recent Tales of the Ambassador, he said, hmmm. Maybe we should get the broken bumper (of which incident I have written about earlier), all the minor dents etc., fixed. We don’t want things rusting….. Sure, whatever you want, I said. With better half around, I had backup transport options, so I would not miss my own vehicle as much.

We called dear Saravanan again, who came in with his elder brother (all in the family) who looked at the vehicle and told us what he would do at the body shop. One entire side and the front and rear bumpers would be fixed until it looked like new. He was very realistic – he said, you should know that I will fix your broken rear bumper but if it gets hit by a  vehicle, it will break again immediately. Yes, we knew that. The one rather modern innovation in this antique model of car was a fibreglass bumper to save costs over the heavy steel one the old Ambassadors had. How silly! In a country like ours where vehicles routinely bump into each other with no solution but a frustrated hand pointing at the offending driver!

The body shop guy took it after Pongal saying his staff would be off for the festival anyway. I appreciated his level-headed analysis that the car would serve us better being at home and accessible during the holidays, rather than in his garage – the fact that he could put the client above himself surprised me. Sure enough, it was taken away appropriately, and I was sent daily photos by whatsapp of all the work being done on it. He brought in the bill, for a significant, pre-agreed, amount, which I settled promptly.

Saravanan, however, never sent me a bill for his non-body shop, mechanical, services, for getting the car in perfect running condition – it had required quite some work. I called him many times. Madam, I am busy right now. I will send it later, he would say, every time. In years of using Saravanan’s services, I should have known. But I am still surprised. Most people are prompt about receiving their payments and lax about responding to clients. Here was the exact opposite. I told him I felt guilty about owing him and he laughed it off every time saying neither of us was going anywhere. I remember wishing I had that certainty. Every since my father’s death, I have not been able to take mortality for granted. 

Last week, someone stole my fuel tank’s cover. Sigh. Really. In a car that is no longer manufactured. Saravanan again, of course. What would I do without him? The fuel tank cover, he asked incredulously. Why in the world would they do that, I asked, upset. Oh, there was probably some aluminum in there. Oh, don’t worry. I will send the boys out and get you one. It might take me a couple of days though, he said. His guy came over with one cover which did not work and then one that did. Phew. 

Recently, he called and asked, are you at home today? Can I send my chap? I was not in that day, unfortunately. Finally, today, over a month and a half after he completed his work, he called again, ensuring it was convenient for me, and sent in his mechanic with the bill. 

Saravanan is unfailingly polite, responsive, and immensely cultured.  We do not know each other beyond our periodic nexus over the phone for car trouble. But what responsiveness! What trust he espoused in a random client!  

Life can be extremely frustrating on a daily basis. But equally entrancing and exhilarating. These were a series of related incidents where one felt that so many people cared.

Hail to Saravanan and his ilk. Hail to all those who help us in times of need and to those who help even otherwise. Hail to those who put action behind their words. Hail to empathy. Hail to trust. Hail to understanding. Here’s to hoping we can similarly be of use to others. Not to make ourselves feel good but just because it IS our ethos.