mechanic by Lyntha Scott Eiler

He Fixed My Car, and My Christmas

In 1958, I was a first-year high school teacher in Beatty, Nevada.

On Dec. 22, I headed home to Idaho in my 1951 Hudson to spend Christmas with my parents.

Just south of Fillmore, Utah, a radiator hose broke and the car started to overheat. I hitchhiked into Fillmore and got a ride to a Chevron station. I explained my plight to the owner, Dan Brinkerhoff, who sent a tow truck to bring in my car.

Dan discovered that the engine had become so hot it had warped the head, so he called a nearby wrecking yard and found the needed part. I boarded a Greyhound bus, bought the part and then caught a return bus to Fillmore.

By that time it was dark, and Dan had closed the station. He immediately went to work on my car, laboring for several hours while I slept curled up in the backseat. Finally, he woke me and announced I was ready to go.

When I went to settle up, he would not take a dime for anything he had done.

I got to spend the holidays with my parents, and I shall forever remember Dan for the wonderful thing he did for me.

~ Glen Gillette



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