I am the first to admit I am a really bad driver. I love drive thru's; the drive thru bank, the drive thru restaurant, the drive thru convience store (I especially love these), the drive thru carwash, I love them all. I can accomplish so much without ever getting anyone out of their car seats. During one of my drive through experiences I jumped a curb (happens often) and bent my rim. Bending a rim is a bad thing because my tire won't seal around it anymore, so I'm constantly adding air to my tire. I'm at school (the prison school, another blog) the other day and I finally have had enough. It's 100 degrees out and I'm bent over putting air into my tire again with a group of drug dealers (it's a really bad part of town) watching me. I decide that I'm getting a new rim today no matter what. If you know me well you know if I don't get a deal I'm not buying it. I know a new rim is $300 so I decide to check out a salvage yard. Now remember, I'm in a bad part of town. I notice a salvage yard up ahead so I decide to check it out. I pull up to what looks like an abandoned warehouse, but it has an open sign. Long story short, the lady inside tells me she lost her license to sell parts. I thank her and start to walk out. As I am walking out she mumbles something like, "third driveway on the right." Me: What? Salvage lady doesn't repeat herself. OK, I shake my head and walk out. As I pull out I start counting driveways, I am intrigued so I pull into the third driveway on the right. I start to drive down a pothole filled dirt driveway I come face to face with Bobs Stinky Nachos. That's right, Bob's Stinky Nachos. He has a homemade sign taped to the front of an old El Camino. He is standing in the back grilling meat on a rotisserie, he has cartons of nachos and bags of tacos set up to sell. Is this guys serious? I realize I am staring as I drive five miles an hour past his setup. In hindsight, this should have been an indicator to turn around and go to a real parts dealer, but on a mission to save some money, I proceed.
I arrive at the yard during peak business hours. The parking lot is jammed. I try to find a real parking spot, but have to settle for a corner next to a Buick that's missing all but one of it's tires. maybe this was sign two to turn around. I head for the door with the giant spray painted public entrance sign. People are swarming in and out pushing wheel barrows, rolling tires, carrying grease laden parts over their heads. I duck to avoid getting hit with a bumper that someone is carrying out over their shoulder. I walk in and get in line. While waiting, I start to read the giant sign over the counter.
1.No weapons, this includes knives and machetes
2. We do not loan tools use your own, All tool boxes will be searched upon exit
3. No credit cards, CASH ONLY
4.No returns for any reason
5.No loitering
I stop reading and look down at my feet
6.NO SANDALS
I'm in a skirt and sandals amid 20 or 30 greasy steel toe boot wearing men. I'm impressed by the man behind the counter. First he helps a Spanish speaking man, then a guy speaking English, and then before helping me he breaks up a fight in Creole. When it was finally my turn I wasn't sure if I should be relieved or scared. He shoves a clipboard at me.
Salvage Man: Sign here.
Me: What am I signing?
SM: You're waiving your rights to sue us if you get hurt.
Me: Why would I get hurt?
SM: Gimme your license.
Me: What do you need it for?
SM: To prove your old enough.
Me: Old enough for what?
SM: To go back
Me: Go back Where?
SM: To the yard
Me: I just want to know if you have a rim
SM: That'll be a dollar
Me: A dollar for what?
SM: To go back
Me: To go back where?
SM: To the yard
Me: I don't want to go back to the "yard", I just want to know if you have a part
He stops to fight with another customer about paying for a part. Meanwhile, I'm still incredibly confused and a long line is starting to form behind me. I take my license back from the counter. He settles the fight and then turns back to me.
Obviously annoyed with my lack of understanding he shakes his head and sighs
SM: Put this on (he hands me a beat up yellow hard hat) and go find Eli
He gestures to what must be the yard
I step over some tires and through the doorway. I stand by some radiators as I take it all in. The yard reminds me of a carnival after closing. Rats are are scurrying around hauling off their finds, some with wheelbarrows and some with wagons. I move around the radiators toward a scrap metal pile and survey the yard trying to decide which one is Eli. A man barrels toward me in a fork lift with a crushed car on the front. He gets way to close to me and drops the car. I jump back but try not to look to surprised.
Me: (Yelling over the sound of the engine) ARE YOU ELI?
Eli: Who wants to know?
Me: I do!
Eli: Yeah, I'm Eli, what's it to you?
Me: I'm just looking for a part?
Eli: What?
Me: A rim for a 2005 Caravan
Eli: That's new
Me: No, it's an 05
Eli: (laughing now) THAT'S NEW (gesturing at the rest of the lot)
I guess this is supposed to mean they only carry parts for older vehicles.
Me: so you don't have one?
Eli shakes his head and whips his fork lift around to pick up another car
I join the crowd of rats heading back into the shop and go to return my hard hat. I set it on the counter and SM stops me.
SM: That'll be a dollar
Me: Why do I owe you a dollar?
SM: For the hard hat.
At this I've had enough and I leave. I am still shaking my head as I wave to Stinky Bob and his nachos. Bet he does a good business! By nine that night I had ordered a new rim off Ebay. Way easier and no hard hats or nachos involved.
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