George, the Mechanic

Not many people can say that they met someone they came to love while having their car repaired. Well, I can. It was a minor issue but I was upset as the car was new. New as in less than two months in my garage. The service writer at the dealer was surprised I had arrived so early in the day. I was more than put out and wanted the matter taken care of before I went to work.

It was so early that the service department wasn't actually open yet for business. But the mechanic who fixed the sort of problem I presented happened to be at work and ready. I was allowed to drive my car into the service area – instead of waiting in a cold little room. The porter who usually drove cars to the mechanics wasn't clocked in yet.

The mechanic was a very pleasant looking man. Perhaps younger than I but I cared only that he could and would take care of my car. He chatted nearly the entire time he was working. Perhaps it was a nervous reaction as the customer usually isn't with their car while he's working on it. Regardless, it was a short time later that he declared the car ready to go. Warranty covered the situation so I could just drive out and go on to work. Which I did.

This was a Friday morning.

Monday morning, as usual, was a bit hectic at work. I'm a one-girl office for a small ad agency. First thing every Monday is to check the answering machine. I had just recorded the last call when the phone rang. The voice asked for me and sounded familiar but I couldn't place a name or face. Guess I hesitated too long and he said, “I'm sorry. Guess I didn't make as good an impression as I thought. This is George from the dealership. I worked on your car Friday.”

Click, click. I knew who it was. Now to not let him know I didn't. “Hi, George. Guess I'm just trying to figure out how you had my office number.”

“It's on the work order.”

“Of course. What can I do for you?” I was totally intrigued by this time. Guess I made more of an impression on him then I thought I had.

'It's short notice and I expect you're already booked. But would you have dinner with me tonight? I have to be at the courthouse at 7 but it'll take only a few minutes and then we could go to dinner. Maybe the Pepper Mill?”

The Pepper Mill is a white linen establishment. Kind of pricey. Elegant. “Courthouse?”

“Have to check in at night court but it won't take long. Any chance you can have dinner with me? Forgive the short notice but I figured if I'd asked Friday you'd shine me on.”

“Well – “ He is a nice looking guy. Seemed polite enough. And the Pepper Mill? Did I want to chance it? Night court? “I usually don't go out on Mondays. It's a catch-breath night after the weekend.”

Good lord, now I sound like I play all weekend.

“Well, I figured you would say no but decided to chance it. Anything I can say to change your mind?”

“George, I've just met you. Where would I meet you?”

“I'll pick you up at 6:30 at your house. If someone goes out with me, it's my job to pick up and take home.”

“You don't know where I live.”

“Of course I do. It's on the work order.”

“6:30?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. I'll be ready.”

“Thanks. See you then. I have to get back to work.”

I hung up. What in hell have I just committed to? I wrote myself a post-it note and put it on my purse. I don't do things this way. I know absolutely nothing about this guy – other than he's a mechanic at the dealership where I bought my car.

The day flew by. Fortunately, I had put that note on my purse and at 5, instead of staying over half an hour as I do often, I locked the front door, told the guys they needed to answer the phone, and went home.

George was prompt. He parked in a city lot and we went into Night Court. There were a lot of people there. He had gotten a speeding ticket and wanted to see if he could beat it – or at least have it cut down. 125 on the New York Extension. That's a fairly new, four lane road that connects Altadena to Sierra Madre. It's not very long but evidently long enough to drive really fast. The judge decided that the citing officer may have pulled him over too soon and some of the speed resulted from the officer trying to catch up to him. He cut the ticket to 65 in a 45 zone. That reduced the fine by over $200 – George says.

He paid the fine in cash; got a receipt and asked, “Ready for dinner?”

The Pepper Mill was a bit busy for a Monday. We were seated in a small dining room off the main dining area. That was fine with us – a group of rowdies from CalTech were pretty loud in the main area. We ordered drinks...surprising, both the same. And George started talking.

In half an hour I had pretty well heard his entire life story. The waiter had brought menus with our second martini. We ordered the same entre. And during dinner, George talked some more. It was as if a fountain of words had erupted and he had to get them all out in one sitting. Thing is – it didn't seem as though he was trying to make an impression. Though I think he was trying to convince me he was an all right guy. And I believed him.

It was after eleven when I finally got home. George walked me to my door, took my key and opened the door. He shook my hand and asked if he could see me again. I nodded. “Give me a call sometime.”

I've gone on some wild first dates – usually with someone I've known, or known about, for a while. But this one was really different. I am truly impressed. If anyone had ever said I'm meet the perfect man while having my car repaired, I would have laughed at them. I'm not laughing now. His appearance before the judge about his speeding ticket was flawless. He stood at ease with his hands behind his back as he related his side of the story. “Yes, Your Honor; no, Your Honor; and, I understand there are standards for clocking a speeding vehicle. I believe these standards were not met.“ The Judge and his bailiff poured over a map of the area for several minutes before agreeing. He wasn't arrogant, belligerent or smart ass. Just cool, calm and collected.

Thursday morning George called me at work. “I hope that I'm not too late to ask for your time on Saturday evening.”

“After your last call, how can you say that? You gave me all of eight hours notice.”

“Yeah, I know. I apologize. But I so wanted to get to know you that I took advantage of Night Court to do it. I apologize. Truly. I would very much enjoy seeing you again...Saturday if I'm not too late in asking.”

I didn't want to sound like I never have a date and jump at the chance. If I turn him down will he call again or ask for next week? I must have hesitated too long.

“You can't make it. That's okay. Maybe another time.” I could tell he was ready to hand up.

“No, no. I was trying to decide how to change plans. I would love to see you Saturday night.”

I could hear the deep sigh.

“When I met you, I knew I had to see you again. I've never been so impressed on a first date before. You were everything I imagined. Poised even in rowdy Night Court. You drink gin martinis. Not many woman drink gin – martinis or otherwise. You eat your steak medium. You chose strawberry over chocolate. You're a good listener and you laugh honestly. It irks me when a woman laughs and makes idiotic cutesy sounds instead of an open honest laugh.”

Does one say thank you to such an expansive compliment? Well, I did. “Thank you, George. No one has ever complimented my laugh before.”

“It's beautiful. I love it. Now about Saturday; do you dance?”