With all the political tumult of the recently completed summer, I'd almost forgotten about a loss in the middle of the season that hit me as hard and unexpectedly as the loss of a relative who hadn't been sick. Tired, maybe, but not sick. Not to my eyes.
I remembered the loss yesterday, driving through town, though I actually remember it every week, sometimes more; the regret comes in spasms that I expect will decrease over time. Although since I'm almost sure nothing will replace what was lost, that expectation might be wishful thinking. I might hurt a while.
I lost a garage. It was a general automotive repair place called Manchester Brake & Auto, an unassuming, almost old-fashioned looking place on Manchester and 3rd avenue on the east side of Inglewood. Every car I ever drove or owned, starting with a '73 Dodge Dart Swinger that I inherited from my grandfather and used through college, spent some time at Manchester Brake. The place opened in 1965. I went there because my parents took their cars there, but I quickly came to appreciate the family who ran the business, a father and two sons who were all mechanics. One brother was short, cheerful and outgoing, the other one was tall and taciturn, and the father kind of split the difference on all counts. But they were all famous for their honesty. If they couldn't fix your car or if it didn't need fixing, they'd tell you right away. They'd send you to somebody who could do the job that they couldn't, and do it well. There was never any tension or haggling at Manchester Brake; a garage isn't a place where customers hang out, but it often felt like they did as they lounged on wooden school chairs set on the driveway outside the hydraulic lifts (Manchester didn't have an office or lobby) waiting for a diagnosis or to pick up a car.
What fascinated me most about the place, as time went on and my social awareness took shape, was its perfect ordinariness and reliability in a neighborhood that had undergone huge transformations since 1965. The Manchester guys were white; '65 was not exactly an auspicious year to open. After the Watts Riots, South Central and nearby places like Inglewood emptied out of white folks almost overnight. White-owned small businesses went with them. Manchester Brake not only stayed, it settled. It was definitively Inglewood in a town that was rapidly losing its touchstones and searching for new ones. Through uneasy times in Inglewood up to and including this year, Manchester was one tiny measure of reassurance that we all were living a life good enough to have within reach a place we could drop off a beloved car at a moment's notice and know it would be taken care of. It countered the occasional but jarring threat of urban chaos with middle-class predictability.
And then, unpredictably, it wasn't there. One day in July, I drove to Manchester in the morning to have the guys (two of them--the father died many years ago) check out my tires, which they had done two weeks earlier. This was just a follow-up. I hadn't called beforehand; I'd never needed to. What I pulled up to was a shuttered garage door and a hand-lettered sign that said Manchester had closed for good due to retirement. The departure looked hasty, or maybe just humble. The sign thanked all the customers for their business the last 44 years.
I sat idling in my Chrysler for many minutes, unbelieving. I had no idea where to take my car next. And for a very brief moment, I didn't know where I lived.
This image was taken by flickr user phxpma. It was used under the Creative Commons license.
Subscribe to Cakewalk's feed.
How sad that businesses like these are few and far between today. I only hope that their retirement was the true reason for the shop's closing. Either way, I agree that it is an odd feeling to have a sense of loss when a place is no more.
It sounds like they survived in the same hands for a very long time. Most auto repair business owners I have known and befriended typically sell or reorganize their businesses several times in the first 5 years. And that's if they survive that long.
Hi Erin:
Our stories are very similar. My father used to take his car to Jerry & David's dad (I don't remember his name). When I turned 16 and got my fabulous green Pinto I would take my car to Manchester Brake for service and have been going there ever since. I am literally heartbroken that they have retired, even though I knew it was coming. Early in the year the mentioned they were trying to sell the business but the recession had thrown a monkey wrench (pun intended) into their timetable. One brother was moving to Arizona (his wife was already there with her new business) and the other was simply going to take it easy. Like you I currently drive a Chrysler and just yesterday I took my girl to Sears for a simple oil change and now two other problems have "miraculously" popped up. I called the new people who have moved in to Manchester’s building and I guess I'll give them a try but I doubt if it will be even remotely similar. Jerry and David offered great prices, honest opinions and simple old-fashioned caring. I truly miss not having to think about where I'm going to take the car or whether or not I can trust the people working on my car.
Ginger: thanks for filling me in Jerry and David, and on the fact that Manchester Brake is at least still going (it never even occurred to me that somebody else would pick up where they left off..) Thanks also for your great story. Call me retro, but I think it's especially important for women like us to have had reliable mechanics - most of my years going to Jerry * David were as a single woman. They were a big load off my mind.
Let me know how the new owners are. Meantime, I recommend Ramirez, a little place on Imperial just west of Crenshaw on the north side of the street. Owner's name is Juan. Tell him the Kaplans sent you.