Chapter 5: Mechanic’s Lean

Some of Frank’s SEPTA money had been plowed into his specialty auto repair shop. For his whole working life, he had been a mechanic. He could charm almost any vehicle back to life—no matter how decrepit. But modern cars bored and annoyed him with all their frivolous mechanisms and impossibly dense engine compartments and dashboards.

Like his son, Frank was a big man. Like Godzilla stomping through papier-mâché models of Tokyo, Frank’s true hell was trying to get his big hands to fix tiny parts in the engine compartment of some miserable Mitsubishi.

Not that he turned away work. He realized that small complex cars were not going away. So, he hired Gina Fletcher to be his top mechanic and business partner. Frank sent to her all the buzzy little beasts she could handle. It was ideal, because Gina was small (barely five feet tall, 150 cm) and agile, and she knew more than he did.

Frank was an instinctive mechanic. He would judge a problem using his senses, including sound and smell. Gina, by comparison, was a walking service manual. She would start with connecting her reader to the on-board diagnostic (ODB) port which would display a code, like “P0303.”

What was spooky to him was how Gina had seemingly memorized the hundreds of codes. Talking to herself: “P0303, that’s a misfire on Cylinder 3. OK, probably a bad spark plug.”

Of course, Frank used the ODB port as well, since cars made after 1996 all had them (and the accompanying “Check Engine” dashboard indicator). But for him the ODB codes would usually confirm what he had already guessed using his senses and experience. And every time a code was displayed, he had to look up that cryptic code’s definition in the paper catalog.

One day, Gina caught him thumbing through the catalog. “What are you doing, Frank?”

“Looking up ‘P0134.’”

“That’s a fault with the oxygen sensor. Next time, just ask me. Your time as a mechanic is too valuable for you to be dragging through a catalog. Next week I’m bringing you.a better tool for code reading.”

A few days later, Gina brought him a new code reader. Frank was skeptical, this looks just like the old reader. What’s the point?”

“Frank, just go plug it into the port on that blue Honda. What do you see?”

He was shocked. The colorful screen read:

P0464 — Fuel level sensor intermittent, more >>

(Frank pushed a key.)

Possible Causes: 1) Faulty fuel level sensor 2) Faulty or shorted wiring harness 3) Poor circuit connection to sensor

“Gina, I’m not paying you enough! How much did this fancy OBD reader cost?”

“Less than a hundred dollars!”

“Incredible. Let’s get a couple more of these. It’s so easy, even those high school guys would be helped when they intern with us. I’m taking this one home to show Daniel tonight.”

With their complementary skills and management, Gina and Frank built an enviable reputation for their business, which was busy and profitable. Their shop wasn’t the cheapest, but customers almost always left satisfied.

Less known was that Frank gave steep discounts to low-income customers. Gina watched once when Linda, an obviously care-worn young woman came in with her battered older Toyota.

“Mr. Green, my car won’t stay on. I come to a red light and suddenly the motor stops. I have to twist the key and start it again.”

“That’s got to be annoying. For how long?”

“About three weeks. And it happens about one in every ten stop lights.”

“Is that a car seat in your Toyota?”

“My Anita is in daycare right now, she’s five. It’s just her and me, sperm donor is long gone.”

“I’m sure we can help you. But your car seat needs to be moved to the back. It’s safer for Anita and it will prevent you getting a citation. The law says it has to be kept in your back seat.”

“I can give you an estimate for $100. Should we go ahead?”

Linda smiled. “Yes, thanks, I’ll wait over there in your lounge.”

As Frank left the front desk, Gina took his arm. “Frank, there’s no way I can repair that old Toyota’s problem for $100. What were you thinking?”

“Gina, look at her. If I charged her normal prices, she couldn’t pay it. Her daughter is five years old. I’m happy to cover the difference, OK?”

“Frank, I think sometimes you don’t have a head for business. But your heart is perfect. I’m going to kiss you and then go home and tell my Carla how her partner’s boss is the cat’s pianos.”

Gina smooched him (on the cheek) and took the old Toyota’s keys, giggling.

Frank shook his head, smiling. He thought, “My first kiss in years, and it’s from a lesbian. I think I need to get out and start dating.”