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Real Texans
The national news media loves to make fun of Texas. Part of this, I imagine, is because they really want to make fun of the president. But you must understand this: The president is not really a Texan. President Bush talks a good story, but he really has no idea how real Texans treat each other.
Let me give you a recent example. Last week I was taking W to pick up his car at a dealership. I dropped him off and pulled out of the dealership onto the road. My right front tire bumped the curve and promptly exploded. I mean, it was dead as a doornail. So I booted the car along a few more feet until I could pull into a small used car dealership/shop on 2222.
Whiteside Motors has been there for awhile. It is packed with motorcycles and cars of various kinds and in various conditions. There was not much room to maneuver, barely an aisle crossing the corner. I stopped the car and looked around for help. This was late in the afternoon, perhaps 4:00 p.m. The place seemed deserted. Then a spry older gentleman walked out from the office and made eye contact. I rolled on the window and said, Is there anyone here who could change a tire for me?
The gentleman walked around to the right side of the car. After a moment, he started to explain that necessary staff members had gone off on other errands. Even as he spoke, he was hauling over a dandy little device that reminded me of a red wagon. The fact it was sprayed silver mattered not at all. It could have been one of those green wagons you see at the nurseries. I got out of the car, and popped the trunk. He slipped the device underneath the front of the car and after several pumps tipped the car into the air. It took effort for him -- he paused to catch his breath.
The spare tire was full-sized, but it was lost an off-brand, Sager or something. It turned out one other tire on the car was also an off-brand. The man brought out an interesting-looking socket device to remove bolts -- it was shaped like a swastika with metric tips, one of which matched my car's bolts. He was able to loosen the nuts fairly easily, and recommended the device to me. He swapped the tires, decided not to put the hubcap back on because I needed a new tire, and suggested I visit the auto shop down on Burnet Road. He had dealt with Tony for many years, and told me to tell him that Robin had sent me. He also mentioned that the off-brand tire was crap, and he hoped I could replace it.
I asked him what I owned him. He thought a moment, and then said: How about next Tuesday or Wednesday, because I'm gone out of town this weekend, you bring over some chocolate cake or chocolate cookies or something like that.
Chocolate brownies? I suggested.
That would be great, he went on.
And so I made my way to Burnet Road, and after many adventures and wrong turns (since I could not admit that the instructions were a little vague, though once I found the place, I could see why he gave them as he did...) I found the fabled Auto Stoppe. Tony told me that he did not stock the tires I wanted but could order them for Monday. It seems that they were a discontinued size (the problem with buying a 12 year old car....) He had several other tires in that size. I asked him for the most reliable tires that he had in stock. A bit of rotation, and I suddenly had two new tires. I did not have a national replacement policy, other than the brand warranty, but I had done my part to Keep Austin Weird.
Wednesday, I delivered a plate of triple chocolate brownies. Robin is an honest man, and admitted that he had had a moment of thinking that it was late, and he was tired. But he also knew that there was no other place close by for me to get any help. He was the man on the ground, and he did what needed doing. He's the kind of person who gives away stickers for helmets warning people not to remove the helmet from an injured rider until s/he's examined by a doctor.
Robin's a real Texan. Just remember not to offer him your hand to shake if you have arthritis. Because he will shake your hand like he means it.
Let me give you a recent example. Last week I was taking W to pick up his car at a dealership. I dropped him off and pulled out of the dealership onto the road. My right front tire bumped the curve and promptly exploded. I mean, it was dead as a doornail. So I booted the car along a few more feet until I could pull into a small used car dealership/shop on 2222.
Whiteside Motors has been there for awhile. It is packed with motorcycles and cars of various kinds and in various conditions. There was not much room to maneuver, barely an aisle crossing the corner. I stopped the car and looked around for help. This was late in the afternoon, perhaps 4:00 p.m. The place seemed deserted. Then a spry older gentleman walked out from the office and made eye contact. I rolled on the window and said, Is there anyone here who could change a tire for me?
The gentleman walked around to the right side of the car. After a moment, he started to explain that necessary staff members had gone off on other errands. Even as he spoke, he was hauling over a dandy little device that reminded me of a red wagon. The fact it was sprayed silver mattered not at all. It could have been one of those green wagons you see at the nurseries. I got out of the car, and popped the trunk. He slipped the device underneath the front of the car and after several pumps tipped the car into the air. It took effort for him -- he paused to catch his breath.
The spare tire was full-sized, but it was lost an off-brand, Sager or something. It turned out one other tire on the car was also an off-brand. The man brought out an interesting-looking socket device to remove bolts -- it was shaped like a swastika with metric tips, one of which matched my car's bolts. He was able to loosen the nuts fairly easily, and recommended the device to me. He swapped the tires, decided not to put the hubcap back on because I needed a new tire, and suggested I visit the auto shop down on Burnet Road. He had dealt with Tony for many years, and told me to tell him that Robin had sent me. He also mentioned that the off-brand tire was crap, and he hoped I could replace it.
I asked him what I owned him. He thought a moment, and then said: How about next Tuesday or Wednesday, because I'm gone out of town this weekend, you bring over some chocolate cake or chocolate cookies or something like that.
Chocolate brownies? I suggested.
That would be great, he went on.
And so I made my way to Burnet Road, and after many adventures and wrong turns (since I could not admit that the instructions were a little vague, though once I found the place, I could see why he gave them as he did...) I found the fabled Auto Stoppe. Tony told me that he did not stock the tires I wanted but could order them for Monday. It seems that they were a discontinued size (the problem with buying a 12 year old car....) He had several other tires in that size. I asked him for the most reliable tires that he had in stock. A bit of rotation, and I suddenly had two new tires. I did not have a national replacement policy, other than the brand warranty, but I had done my part to Keep Austin Weird.
Wednesday, I delivered a plate of triple chocolate brownies. Robin is an honest man, and admitted that he had had a moment of thinking that it was late, and he was tired. But he also knew that there was no other place close by for me to get any help. He was the man on the ground, and he did what needed doing. He's the kind of person who gives away stickers for helmets warning people not to remove the helmet from an injured rider until s/he's examined by a doctor.
Robin's a real Texan. Just remember not to offer him your hand to shake if you have arthritis. Because he will shake your hand like he means it.
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Right now is one of them. Thank you. ;)
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I was pointed to this story by Sheilagh because of my very recent Texas entry: http://fulguritus.livejournal.com/1155848.html
Slightly different flavor to mine. ;)
But it's things like this story of Texans helping each other than make me proud to be Texan.
I love that we wave at each other on back roads. I love that old men will help us change tires. I just love Texas. Even if sometimes it's as backward as a dog with a bag on it's head.
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Yup. That sums it up. Sometimes I just want to grab it and shake it like a dog with a rat, for some of its fearful beliefs. But half the state was ready to drive to NYC after 9/11. It's who we are.
We can just keep chipping away at the things we think need to be changed, and love it for the good things other states wish they had.