(HOST) Commentator Willem Lange once found the true spirit of Christmas in Waterbury, Connecticut – in a garage full of Mexican mechanics.
(LANGE) This story’s so hokey I hardly believe it myself; but it happened. I don’t remember the year; but we were driving a new 1976 Plymouth Volarï¿? station wagon – so maybe Christmas, 1975. Mother and I and the three kids were going to Florida to spend a few days with family down there.
We wanted to make it down in two days, so we put the kids in their sleeping bags in the back and headed down I-91 about one on a Saturday morning. I was startled by a bright light in the sky on the driver’s side. It was a fairly bright comet that I hadn’t heard mentioned by any of the media. I thought, "Hmm…I’ll bet that was the star in the East that first Christmas."
Somewhere around the Windsor exit the car began to shudder. Uh-oh. I slowed down, and the shuddering stopped. I experimented and found that if I kept it under forty, it was okay. Above that, it was bad. I kept going. First town we got to big enough to have a Plymouth dealer, we’d stop and get it fixed.
Waterbury, Connecticut. I found the dealer and approached a salesman in a tweed jacket who was reading the classifieds. He was quite attentive until I asked him about service. "Closed," he said. "Be open Monday." and resumed reading his paper. No matter what I said, he never looked up again, except to say, "Better get a motel room."
Almost in despair, I went back to the car with the bad news. But looking around, I spotted a low concrete block building up a driveway across the road. It was surrounded with cars in various states of repair, and on its blank side someone had painted, Dios es Amor – God is Love.
Nothing ventured, nothing gained. I drove up the driveway and went inside. A Mexican, clearly the boss, approached, wiping his hands on an orange rag. I explained my problem, or, rather, my symptom. He turned to a couple of his guys and in Spanish told them to push aside the car they were working on. "Drive in," he said.
The kids and Mother got out, and the car went up on a lift. The boss poked around and announced, "New car, yes? Parking brake cable set too tight; rear brakes dragging. You go fast, drums heat up, car shake. We can fix, no problem, but maybe need to turn drums."
"Great!" I said. "Is there a restaurant anywhere nearby where we can get breakfast?"
"Near, no. But take my car. Take a left; two miles."
When we returned, they’d had the drums to a machine shop, and had the wheels back on the car. The cable was adjusted, and the bill came to – fifteen dollars! It felt like the last scene of the Mexican festival Las Posadas, where Mary and Joseph finally find room at the stable.
As we left, I rolled down the window and shouted, "Gracias! Gracias! et Feliz Navidad!"
And one of the mechanics waved a rag and cried, "Mairy Creesmas!"
Which is my heartfelt wish for all of you.