The New Garage

06/17/2026

📢 NEIL MADE ME POST THIS. AND SINCE NEIL IS THE REASON YOU’RE READING THIS, NEIL IS ABOUT TO BE THE SUBJECT OF IT. 📢

So here’s the thing — we have been absolutely buried at The New Garage for the past several months, and I mean buried in the good way, the kind of busy where you look up and it’s somehow Thursday and you haven’t returned three phone calls and you can’t remember if you ate lunch, and somewhere in the middle of all of that the page just went quiet because when you’re wrist deep in a transmission at 4:30 in the afternoon, social media is approximately the last thing on your mind. Eric has been selling tires at a pace that would make McDonald’s uncomfortable about their hamburger numbers. Tim has been diagnosing things that other shops gave up on. I have been doing what I do. We have been busy. Good busy. The kind of busy that means Bloomsburg is trusting us with their vehicles and we take that seriously.

But Neil noticed the silence on the page, and Neil had feelings about it, and last week Neil pulled me aside and said — and I want you to know he said this with complete sincerity — “The page has been too quiet. I miss the posts. The people miss the posts.” And then he looked at me with the expression of a man who owns a shop and therefore technically signs my check, so I said “yes sir” and here we are.

You’re welcome, Neil.

And since Neil is entirely responsible for this post existing, Neil is entirely responsible for what happens next.

Now. Neil used to work in auto body. He was good at it — genuinely talented — and for as long as any of us can remember, Neil has carried around this quiet dream of opening his own body shop someday. We have always supported this dream. We think it is a fine dream. We believe in Neil.

What we did not anticipate was the dream deciding to express itself through the wholesale acquisition of front-end damaged Chevrolets.

It started a few weeks ago when Neil pulled into the lot with a Chevy Trax that had clearly had a very bad day at some point in its recent past, the whole front end looking like it lost an argument with something that was not interested in losing, and Neil climbed out and said “I’m gonna fix it up, good money in body work,” and we said okay, and he said “I already did seventy-five percent of it,” and we said great, and that was that. Except here is the thing about that seventy-five percent — it has remained seventy-five percent for what is now going on several weeks, sitting in the lot every single morning when we pull in, patiently waiting, seventy-five percent done on Monday, seventy-five percent done on Friday, seventy-five percent done in rain and sunshine alike, with no apparent ambition to become eighty percent done or any other percentage. Every morning John looks at it. Every morning it looks back. Chase the shop dog started sitting next to it last week, and we have decided he feels sorry for it, which makes one of us, because the rest of us have moved on to concern.

Chase, incidentally, also stole the hoagie out of Neil’s lunch while Neil was standing in the parking lot staring at the Trax thinking about the body shop. Neil did not notice. He was deep in thought about a dream.

One week after the Trax arrived — one week, seven days, not a long time by any measure — Neil came back with a Diesel Silverado that had introduced its right front corner to a telephone pole at a speed and enthusiasm that the telephone pole clearly did not appreciate or survive without significant feelings about the matter, and Neil said he was going to fix it up and use it to haul his race cars to the track on race nights, which is a completely reasonable thing to want except that there is still a Trax in the parking lot at seventy-five percent, and when Eric pointed this out Neil said “the Trax is a process, Eric” in the tone of a man who has considered the matter fully and does not require further input. Tim walked outside, looked at the Silverado, came back inside, and said nothing, because sometimes Tim is the wisest person in the building. Chase sniffed the Silverado, sneezed directly onto it with great commitment, and walked away, which is honestly a professional opinion at this point and we are choosing to respect it.

Then came the Chevy Cruze.

We want to be clear that nobody at The New Garage requested the Chevy Cruze, nobody predicted the Chevy Cruze, and nobody was emotionally prepared for the Chevy Cruze, and yet there it was — front end damage, naturally — and it is currently occupying Bay 1 in a state of complete disassembly, with various pieces of Cruze distributed around the bay in an arrangement that suggests either a very organized plan or no plan at all, and honestly at this point we have stopped asking questions and are simply working around it the way you work around a piece of furniture that someone moved and never moved back. Eric said “Neil, that’s three” and Neil said “body work is recession proof” and Eric stared at the wall for a moment and then went back to selling tires because what else are you going to do.

Chase walked into Bay 1, surveyed the situation, picked up a piece of Cruze trim in his mouth, walked it out to the parking lot, set it down near the Trax, and walked away, and we are genuinely unsure if he is building something or making a statement, but either way we are leaving him to it.

Now here is where the story takes a turn.

Tuesday afternoon a gentleman walked through the front door in a very nice black suit — calm, unhurried, briefcase in hand, carrying the kind of dignified energy that comes from spending a career handling situations that require complete composure — and he walked up to Eric at the counter and said he had heard that the owner of The New Garage was looking to open a body shop and needed experienced staff, and that he had twenty-three years of experience preparing bodies, and that he specialized in restoration, presentation, and ensuring that everything looked its absolute best for the final send-off.

Eric processed this for a moment.

“When you say preparing bodies—” Eric started.

“Mortuary certification, 2001,” the man said pleasantly. “Twelve years at Harding’s, then seven at Peaceful Valley. I’ve handled hundreds of cases. Very detail-oriented work. I understand the owner here has a vision.”

“The owner,” Eric said carefully, “has a Chevy Trax that is seventy-five percent done.”

The man looked at Eric.

“And a Silverado with front end damage,” Eric continued. “And a Cruze in Bay 1. And a dream.”

“Who told me to come here,” the man said.

“Sir,” Eric said, “that is a question we would also very much like answered.”

The gentleman looked around the shop the way a person looks around a room when they are recalibrating their expectations, and his gaze moved from Eric to Bay 1 where the Cruze sat in pieces, and then out the window toward the parking lot where the Trax waited at its eternal seventy-five percent with Chase sitting beside it holding a piece of trim, and then the man picked up his briefcase and handed Eric a business card and walked out with the quiet dignity of someone who has seen genuinely difficult situations in his career and has decided this one isn’t worth the paperwork.

The card said Peaceful Valley Funeral Home. Celebrating Lives Well Lived.

Eric held it for a long time.

Tim came in from the shop, saw Eric’s expression, looked at the card. “What do you want to do with it?” Tim asked.

“I think,” Eric said, “I’m going to give it to Neil.”

Neil was not in the building. He was at an auction.

He came back with a parts car.

So this is our formal, public, completely sincere plea to the greater Bloomsburg community and surrounding areas: if you know of a shop space that Neil can rent at a reasonable rate — a garage, a barn, a large shed, a building of any description with enough room for three damaged Chevrolets and the ambitions of a man who is absolutely, definitely, any day now going to finish that Trax — please reach out. We will be forever grateful. We are not picky. We just need Bay 1 back.

We are also accepting suggestions for hobbies. Fishing. Woodworking. Golf. Competitive corn watching. Literally anything that does not involve an auction and a trailer.

Meanwhile, The New Garage remains open, fully operational, and genuinely delighted to take care of your vehicle. We are busy — good busy — and we are not going anywhere. We also buy and sell used vehicles, cars, trucks, ATVs, UTVs — and unlike Neil, we generally prefer them with the front end still attached, though at this point we understand the appeal.

Eric is selling tires at a historic pace and would like everyone to know that he is single and that these two facts are somehow, mysteriously, unrelated. Nokian and Vredestein — the finest European rubber available — and Eric will tell you about both of them whether you ask or not. He will also mention that he is single a second time, just in case you missed it the first time.

Come see us.

📞 570-784-1907
📍 3093 Columbia Blvd, Bloomsburg PA

Snap Finance available — 100 days same as cash. Chase is also available for emotional support. Do not bring hoagies near him unless you intend to share, which he will interpret as you intending to share.

records

06/17/2026

🚨 A CUSTOMER CAME IN THIS WEEK. WE NEED TO DISCUSS IT. 🚨

A gentleman pulled into The New Garage and walked up to the counter where Eric was standing, ready, as always, to serve the community and mention that he is available.

Customer: “Yeah I saw your post about those… Vredenstein tires?”

Eric: “Vredestein.”

Customer: “That’s what I said. Vredenstein.”

Eric: “Vredestein.”

Customer: “…Vredenstein.”

Eric: (deep breath) “Close enough. How can I help you?”

Customer: “Do they play heavy metal music at highway speeds? Because my current tires do.”

(Silence in the shop.)

Eric: “I’m sorry?”

Customer: “My tires. Highway speeds. It’s like Rammstein up front and maybe a cat in a blender somewhere in the rear.”

Eric: “…Sir, I’m going to need you to pull your vehicle around.”

(John and Tim emerge from the shop. They walk to the customer’s car. They look at the tires. They look at each other.)

Tim: “John.”

John: “I see it, Tim.”

Tim: “The metal cords are—”

John: “Hanging out. Yes.”

Tim: “Like, visibly.”

John: “Like they gave up and decided to just live their lives outside the tire.”

Tim: “The alignment must be—”

John: “Way out of whack doesn’t even begin to cover it. This car has been going sideways longer than Eric has been single.”

Eric: (offended, from across the parking lot) “I HEARD THAT.”

(John turns to the customer)

John: “Sir, I want you to know something. These tires are not playing heavy metal music.”

Customer: “No?”

John: “No. Rammstein is a performance. What your tires are doing is more like… Bon Jovi. Living on a Prayer. Halfway there. Barely.”

Tim: “To be fair to Bon Jovi, his tires were probably better maintained.”

John: “Fair point.”

Customer: “So I need new tires.”

John: “Sir, your tires need LAST RITES. We’re going to need to have a small memorial service before we remove them.”

Tim: “I’ll say a few words.”

(Eric reappears, having composed himself)

Eric: “Sir, today is actually your lucky day. We carry two of the finest European tire brands available. Nokian — engineered in Finland, where they take winter personally — and our newest addition, Vredestein. Dutch. Over 115 years old. Designed in collaboration with the same man who styled the Maserati Bora. These tires do NOT play heavy metal music.”

Customer: “What DO they sound like?”

Eric: “Quiet confidence. Like a man who knows his worth.”

Tim: (quietly) “Like Eric wishes he did.”

Eric: “ALSO HEARD THAT.”

Customer: “What about the cat?”

(John and Tim look at each other)

John: “…We’ll check the wheel wells.”

Tim: “Standard procedure at this point.”

The point is: come see us before your tires start playing music. Or before the metal cords start living their best life outside the rubber. Or before Tim has to say a few words over your wheels.

We carry Nokian and Vredestein — two brands that will absolutely, positively not serenade you on I-80.

Snap Finance available. 100 days same as cash. No credit needed.

Eric is also available. He wanted us to include that.

📞 570-784-1907
📍 3093 Columbia Blvd, Bloomsburg PA

The New Garage — keeping Bloomsburg’s tires quieter than Eric’s ego since day one.

04/14/2026

We pay top dollar for broken down or junk
Vehicles

03/27/2026

🚨🚨🚨 PENNSYLVANIA, WE HAVE A SITUATION AND IT CANNOT WAIT 🚨🚨🚨
STOP. EVERYTHING. PUT DOWN YOUR SCRAPPLE. PAUSE YOUR EAGLES GAME HIGHLIGHTS. THIS IS THE MOST IMPORTANT THING HAPPENING IN THE COMMONWEALTH OF PENNSYLVANIA RIGHT NOW AND WE ARE NOT EXAGGERATING EVEN A LITTLE BIT.
Two LEGENDARY sons of the Keystone State are on the verge of MULLET GLORY and they need YOUR help to cross the finish line.
Meet Kaleb “The Mullet Brother 11” and Karson “The Mullet Brother 3.”
These two boys — THESE TWO BEAUTIFUL, MAGNIFICENT, FOLLICULARLY BLESSED BOYS — have been growing their hair since the moment they entered this world. Not last year. Not last month. SINCE BIRTH. Every single morning the sun rose over Pennsylvania, these boys woke up and their hair got a little longer, a little more glorious, a little more destined for greatness. While other kids were learning to walk, THEY WERE GROWING. While other kids were learning to read, THEY WERE GROWING. Every birthday candle blown out, every lost tooth, every first day of school — THE HAIR. KEPT. GROWING.
This was not an accident. This was not a phase. This was a CALLING.
Kaleb showed up to his photo shoot in a cowboy hat and pit viper shades looking like if ZZ Top, Billy Ray Cyrus, and a NASCAR pit crew somehow had a son together and that son was also secretly a rodeo champion. Scientists cannot explain it. They’ve given up trying. Kaleb doesn’t walk into a room. His hair arrives first and the rest of him follows out of respect.
Karson is THREE YEARS OLD and is already operating at a level of hair excellence that grown men spend decades trying to achieve. He’s wearing flannel and pit vipers and has the quiet confidence of a man who has seen things. Beautiful, flowing, magnificent things. In the mirror. Every morning. Because HE HAS THE HAIR OF AN AMERICAN LEGEND AT AGE THREE.
Now. We need to talk about the rest of us.
Here at The New Garage we have two incredibly talented, hardworking, handsome gentlemen on staff. John and Eric. Good men. GREAT men. Men who show up every day and pour their hearts into this shop.
Men who between the two of them have approximately ELEVEN HAIRS.
We don’t say this to be cruel. We say this because it is FACTUALLY TRUE and because John and Eric themselves understand — better than anyone — what it means to look in the mirror and know that the dream of a great mullet died long ago like a candle in the wind. They have mourned. They have accepted. They have moved on.
But KALEB AND KARSON HAVE NOT LOST THAT DREAM.
These boys still have what John and Eric can only remember fondly from faded photographs and the distant echoes of a windblown youth. They have the FLOW. They have the FUTURE. They have what no hat, no baseball cap, no very aggressive comb-over can ever truly replace.
And they are only 200 LIKES from FIRST PLACE.
Let us pause and consider what great hair has accomplished throughout history.
Samson? DEMOLISHED A BUILDING WITH HIS BARE HANDS. The hair was the source.
ZZ Top? Still going strong since 1969. Those beards could legally vote.
Billy Ray Cyrus? The mullet carried an entire generation through 1992. Load bearing hair.
Elvis? The quiff alone won the Cold War. Classified information but we know.
Ben Franklin? Long flowing locks. Discovered electricity. Helped found a nation. While having INCREDIBLE hair. THE MULLET IS LITERALLY WOVEN INTO THE FABRIC OF AMERICA.
Albert Einstein? That wasn’t a bad hair day. That was GENIUS refusing to be tamed by a comb.
Hulk Hogan? Bald on top. Glorious flow in the back. A PROPHET of the modern mullet. A man who understood that sometimes you sacrifice the front for the greater good of the back.
John and Eric understand this now. It is too late for them. It does not have to be too late for KALEB AND KARSON.
PENNSYLVANIA — THIS IS YOUR MOMENT.
From the rolling hills of the Poconos to the streets of Philadelphia to the farms of Lancaster County to the glorious mountains and valleys of our beloved Commonwealth — WE MUST RISE UP AND VOTE.
🇺🇸💈 LET’S MAKE THE MULLET GREAT AGAIN 💈🇺🇸
LMMGA
These boys have given YEARS — their ENTIRE LIVES — to the sacred art of the mullet. Every single day since birth has been a deposit into the greatest hair account this state has ever seen. They are cashing in that account RIGHT NOW and they need every like, every share, every prayer, and every ounce of Pennsylvania pride you have got.
HERE IS YOUR MISSION:
👉 Click this link RIGHT NOW like your hair depends on it: https://www.facebook.com/share/p/1F4RZYRp2r/?mibextid=wwXlfr
👉 LIKE BOTH boys’ photos — Kaleb AND Karson each need their own like or John might cry and honestly there aren’t enough hairs on his head to cover that kind of grief
👉 DONATE if you can — $1 = 1 vote and 100% goes to Harrison’s Playmakers, supporting individuals with special needs to enjoy amazing experiences 💙
👉 SHARE THIS like you are fleeing from something
👉 Tag EVERYONE — your friends, your family, your neighbors, your barber, that one uncle who peaked in 1987 and never looked better, your pastor, your mailman, the guy at the gas station who always has great hair — EVERYONE
The contest ends APRIL 20TH. They are 200 likes from FIRST PLACE. That is NOTHING. We flush more coolant than that before 9am on a Tuesday.
Do it for Kaleb. Do it for Karson. Do it for every boy who ever dared to dream of a mullet so magnificent that it stops traffic, turns heads, and makes grown men with eleven total hairs between them weep softly into their torque wrenches.
Do it for John and Eric, who cannot do it for themselves.
THE MULLET BROTHERS SHALL NOT PERISH FROM THIS EARTH. NOT ON OUR WATCH. NOT IN OUR STATE. NOT TODAY. 🤘🔥💈🇺🇸
🇺🇸

03/18/2026

🦄⚡🔧 THE ANNUAL NEW GARAGE LUNCH AMBUSH: LARRY EDITION 🔧⚡🦄

Every year, someone at The New Garage has a work anniversary. And every year, we ask ourselves one simple question: “How do we make this person deeply regret ever taking this job?”

Larry hit ONE YEAR last week. And oh, Larry. Sweet, unsuspecting Larry.

It started innocently enough — salads and sandwiches spread out on the shop table like any normal Tuesday. Ranch dressing within reach. Larry’s sitting there sipping his grape Kool-Aid like a man completely at peace with the world, probably thinking life is good, thinking he’s got great coworkers, thinking—

AND THEN SHE WALKED THROUGH THE DOOR.

A full-on, pink-and-white, big-blue-eyed SINGING UNICORN came prancing into The New Garage and launched into the most enthusiastic rendition of Greased Lightning this side of the Susquehanna River. 🎤🎶

Larry’s first words — and we have witnesses — were simply:

“Oh no!!!!”

It got better. The unicorn wasn’t just there to sing. She came PREPARED. Before Larry could process what was happening, there was a pink paper crown on his head. Then the unicorn head came OFF and went ON Larry. The man looked like a medieval court jester who also happens to know how to rebuild a transmission.

Meanwhile in the background, the shop’s own sign read: “TOUCHING MY TOOLS COULD BE HAZARDOUS TO YOUR HEALTH.”

Larry, buddy — we’re starting to think working here might be hazardous to your health. 😂

Now here’s where it gets REALLY good. Because Larry — ever the gentleman scholar — waited for the unicorn to finish, straightened his paper crown, set down his grape Kool-Aid, and proceeded to deliver an unsolicited but thoroughly enjoyed music history lesson.

He informed the entire shop that while Greased Lightning was a fine choice, he would have personally preferred Gary Numan singing Cars. Said it was a massive hit in 1980. And then — without a moment’s hesitation, sitting there in his unicorn crown surrounded by salads and ranch dressing — Larry sang it for us.

Right there in the garage.

In front of everyone.

“Here in my car / I feel safest of all…” 🎵🚗

Larry. We are not worthy.

To his credit, he sat through the whole thing like the absolute LEGEND he is. Laughed. Ate his salad. Wore the crown. Posed with the unicorn. Delivered a music lecture. Performed a live concert. And then, as the dust settled and the last notes faded into the garage air, Larry looked around at his coworkers — his family — and delivered not one but TWO closing statements for the ages:

First: “With friends like these… who needs enemies.”

And then, rising from the table with the quiet dignity of a man who has seen things he cannot unsee:

“Now that I’ve finished my salad, I’m going to go throw up.”

And he walked away.

Larry, you are an absolute original and this shop would not be the same without you. We mean that from the bottom of our slightly-twisted, unicorn-hiring, Kool-Aid-serving hearts. 🔧🦄❤️

And when John reminded him that “If you think THIS is great, just wait for your 2-year anniversary…”

Larry didn’t even look back.

👀 365 days, Larry. The clock is ticking.

📍 The New Garage | Bloomsburg, PA
📞 570-784-1907 | Mon–Fri 8AM–5PM

03/13/2026

02/05/2026

🐑 LARRY’S LATEST: AAA EMPLOYEE’S TRUCK GETS THE FULL TREATMENT 🔧
(Featuring: Better roadside service than roadside service, sheep oil that’s NOT snake oil, and insurance jokes)
📱 HOW IT STARTED:
Tim: “Buddy at AAA needs undercoating.”
John: “AAA the insurance place?”
Tim: “Yeah. Silverado. Pretty rusty.”
Larry: “Bring it in, I’ll coat it.”
John: “He gonna drop it off?”
Tim: “Nah, we’re picking it up.”
Larry: “Course we are.”
🚗 THE PICKUP:
Tim and John head to AAA:
Cyle: “Thanks for grabbing it. I cleaned the undercarriage for you guys.”
Tim: “Oh nice, appreciate that.”
John (looking underneath): “Yeah that helps. Still got some rust but not terrible.”
Cyle: “How long you think?”
Tim: “Today. We’ll bring it back when Larry’s done.”
Cyle: “Wait, you’re delivering it back?”
John: “Full service. Like AAA but with sheep oil.”
Cyle: “…what?”
Tim: “Don’t worry about it.”
🔧 BACK AT THE SHOP:
Larry (checking the undercarriage): “Okay, he cleaned it but I’m gonna go over it again.”
John: “He tried.”
Larry: “Yeah but I gotta make sure. Can’t coat over dirt.”
Tim: “How long?”
Larry: “Couple hours.”
🐑 SHEEP OIL VS SNAKE OIL:
Here’s the thing people always ask:
“Is that sheep stuff real or just some gimmick?”
Real talk:
∙ It’s lanolin. Comes from sheep’s wool.
∙ Keeps sheep dry in rain. Same thing works on metal.
∙ Repels water naturally.
∙ Never dries out or cracks.
∙ Military uses it. Farmers swear by it.
∙ Been around for decades.
It’s not snake oil. It’s actual sheep science.
Larry: “People think it sounds weird so it can’t work.”
John: “Marketing problem.”
Larry: “It’s literally what keeps sheep dry. Why wouldn’t it work on metal?”
John: “Because it sounds too simple.”
Larry: “Simple doesn’t mean fake.”
🎨 WHAT LARRY ACTUALLY DID:
∙ Went over the undercarriage again (extra clean)
∙ Applied lanolin coating to everything - frame, suspension, crossmembers
∙ Used 360 wand to spray INSIDE the frame rails (this is the key part)
∙ Coated every surface
The result: Rust gets sealed, can’t spread. Protected for 2-3 years. Went from rusty orange to protected black.
🎀 JOHN’S DECISION:
John walks by the finished truck.
Stops.
Goes to the office.
Comes back with a red bow.
Puts it on the steering wheel.
Larry: “What’re you doing?”
John: “Seems right.”
Larry: “It’s just undercoating.”
John: “So?”
🚗 THE DELIVERY:
Tim and Larry drive back to AAA:
Cyle: “Already? Wow.”
Gets down to look underneath
Cyle: “That’s really black.”
Larry: “Lanolin. Got inside the frame too with the wand.”
Cyle: “The rust is gone?”
Larry: “Sealed. Won’t spread now.”
Cyle: “This looks great, thanks guys.”
🎀 LATER THAT NIGHT:
Text from Cyle
Photo of bow on steering wheel
Cyle: “You guys put a BOW on my truck?? 😂”
Tim: “John did.”
Cyle: “Better service than WE provide and I work at AAA 😂”
Tim: “Don’t tell your boss.”
Cyle: “My lips are sealed. Like my frame rails 😂”
🎯 THE INSURANCE JOKES:
Customer calls: “You do undercoating?”
Tim: “Yeah. Full service - we can pick up and deliver.”
Customer: “Like roadside assistance?”
John: “We’re AAA.”
Customer: “You work for them?”
John: “Nah. Another Automotive Alternative.”
Tim: “We coated an AAA guy’s truck. He said we’re better at service than they are.”
Another customer: “This coating, it’s like insurance?”
Larry: “Pay now, avoid bigger problems later.”
“What’s the coverage?”
Larry: “Full frame, suspension, everything.”
“Any exclusions?”
John: “Don’t drive it in the ocean.”
“Fair.”
At AAA the next day:
Coworker: “Why’s there a bow on your steering wheel?”
Cyle: “Got undercoated. Look underneath.”
Coworker gets down, looks
Coworker: “We’re a roadside service company and they out-serviced us.”
Cyle: “Pretty much.”
🐑 THE ACTUAL PROCESS:
Clean everything (Cyle helped but Larry went over it)
Apply lanolin coating (the sheep stuff that actually works)
360 wand INSIDE the frame (where rust really kills trucks)
Final check (make sure everything’s covered)
Result: Rust sealed, protection for 2-3 years, black appearance, frame won’t rot out.
💬 REAL TALK:
Customer: “Rust disappears?”
Larry: “No. Gets sealed. Can’t spread.”
Customer: “How long’s it last?”
Larry: “2-3 years.”
Customer: “Better than nothing?”
Larry: “Way better.”
📞 WANT THIS?
Call: 570-784-1907
We’ll:
✅ Pick it up (if needed)
✅ Clean it (even if you already did)
✅ Coat everything with lanolin (sheep science, not snake oil)
✅ Use 360 wand inside frame (the important part)
✅ Stop rust from spreading
✅ Deliver it back (if needed)
✅ Maybe add a bow (John decides)
Think of it as rust insurance.
AAA employees approve.
📍 3093 Columbia Blvd, Bloomsburg, PA
Make The New Garage YOUR New Garage - where we out-service the service providers, Larry uses actual science (not gimmicks), and John makes decorative decisions. 🐑🔧
P.S. - Lanolin is real. Marines use it. We use it. It works.
P.P.S. - The 360 wand inside the frame is everything. That’s where rust destroys trucks.
P.P.P.S. - We’re apparently AAA-approved now. Weird flex but okay.
P.P.P.P.S. - Chase stole hoagie #370.
🐑🔧🚗

02/02/2026

🎂 HAPPY BIRTHDAY ERIC: A CELEBRATION & AN INTERVENTION 🗺️
Or: “But I Wouldn’t Go That Way If I Were You”
Featuring: Eric’s many talents, one genetic flaw, and why he gives directions like the old man in Funny Farm

🎉 FIRST, THE GOOD STUFF:
Happy Birthday Eric!
You’re an excellent service writer.
You’re an asset to our team.
You sell 300+ tires monthly (100 during network outages).
You put up with all our shenanigans.
You went to Punxsutawney (spiritual journey).
You may or may not have out-pranked Tim with a $47 dipstick.
We appreciate you.
But we need to talk about THE DIRECTIONS.

🗺️ THE PROBLEM:
Eric gives directions.
Not addresses. Directions.
Like: “Turn where the old barn used to be, go 3 miles before the dead end, take the bridge at the fork—but I wouldn’t go that way if I were you.”
In the year 2025.
When GPS exists.
For free.
On every phone.

🎬 THE FUNNY FARM CONNECTION:
The 1988 movie “Funny Farm” has a scene where movers ask an old man for directions:
Old Man: “Swing around the way you came, but this time turn right where the old Holland shed barn used to be, then about 5 miles before the road dead ends veer left and follow the railroad tracks straight into a town called Beaver Mills or you could take the bridge at the fork in the road and save yourself a heap of time.”
Movers drive off
Old Man (calling after them): “But I wouldn’t go that way if I were you!”

That old man is Eric.
Same confusing landmarks.
Same “used to be” references.
Same contradictory warnings.

💬 ACTUAL ERIC DIRECTIONS:
Example 1:
Us: “What’s the pickup address?”
Eric: “Go down Route 11, turn left where the old Dairy Queen used to be—”
Larry: “Used to be?”
Eric: “1998. It’s a pizza place now. Or a dentist. Just look for where the Dairy Queen was.”
Larry: “What’s the address?”
Eric: “Why do you need the address when I’m giving you landmarks?”

Example 2:
Tim: “Where’s this customer?”
Eric: “Go down Old Mill Road about 3 miles before the road dead ends, then turn right. Or you could take the bridge at the fork and save yourself time.”
Tim: “Which way should I go?”
Eric: “Either one!”
Tim (leaving): “I’ll take the bridge—”
Eric: “But I wouldn’t go that way if I were you!”
Tim: “YOU JUST TOLD ME TO TAKE THE BRIDGE.”
Eric: “Road’s kinda rough. And the bridge is narrow. Railing’s mostly gone.”
Tim: “MOSTLY?!”
Eric: “Still standing! Been there since 1847!”

🌉 THE BRIDGE INCIDENT:
Neil (calling from field): “Eric, I’m at a bridge.”
Eric: “Great! Cross it!”
Neil: “Eric, this bridge is from the Civil War. I can see through the planks.”
Eric: “That’s so you know the creek is there!”
Neil: “This ain’t a bridge, Eric. This is termites holding hands.”
Eric: “Have a little faith in our forefathers!”
Neil: “YOUR forefathers, not MY forefathers! I’m turning around.”
Eric: “But the house is right there!”
Neil: “I’M USING GPS.”

🧬 PLOT TWIST: IT’S GENETIC:
Last month, Eric’s daughter was visiting from Delaware.
She stopped in Quakertown and got confused about getting back on the interstate.
She called Eric.
John overheard the conversation:
Eric (on phone, increasingly agitated): “No, you need to go NORTH. NORTH!”
taps phone frantically
Eric: “I’m looking at your location… you’re going the WRONG WAY.”
Eric: “NORTH! Go NORTH! That’s SOUTH! You’re going SOUTH!”
long pause
Eric (defeated): “Just… just pull over and put the address in your GPS.”

John walked over after the call:
John: “Your daughter got lost?”
Eric: “She was going the wrong direction on the highway.”
John: “Did you give her directions?”
Eric: “I tried!”
John: “Eric… maybe this is genetic.”
Eric: “What do you mean?”
John: “You can’t give directions. She can’t follow them. It’s inherited directional confusion.”
Eric: “That’s not a real thing.”
John: “You just watched her drive south instead of north on Find My iPhone.”
Eric: “She’s usually good with directions!”
John: “You just told her to go NORTH and she went SOUTH.”
Eric: “…”
John: “It’s hereditary, Eric.”

🎭 THE REALIZATION:
The next day:
Larry: “Did Eric’s daughter make it home okay?”
John: “Eventually. After GPS intervention.”
Tim: “What happened?”
John: “She called Eric for directions. Went the opposite way he told her.”
Tim: “So she inherited Eric’s directional abilities?”
John: “Apparently.”
Neil: “Both the inability to give directions AND the inability to follow them?”
John: “It’s impressive, really.”
Larry: “A complete directional disability spanning generations.”
Eric (overhearing): “She made it home!”
Everyone: “Because of GPS.”
Eric: “Because of my guidance!”
Everyone: “You were yelling NORTH into the phone while watching her drive SOUTH.”
Eric: “She corrected course!”
Larry: “After pulling over and using GPS.”

🗺️ THE ERIC DIRECTION PATTERN:
Every Eric direction includes:
✅ “Turn where [thing] used to be” (landmarks from 1987)
✅ Distance measured in “before” (3 miles before the dead end)
✅ Multiple contradictory routes
✅ A bridge you shouldn’t actually take
✅ “But I wouldn’t go that way if I were you” (AFTER suggesting it)
✅ Confusion when asked for the actual address
✅ Faith in forefathers’ bridge-building abilities
✅ Genetic directional confusion

💬 THE WARNING PROBLEM:
Eric gives directions.
You leave.
Eric runs out: “But I wouldn’t go that way if I were you!”
Every. Single. Time.

Larry: “Eric, why do you tell us which way to go, then tell us not to go that way?”
Eric: “I’m offering options!”
Larry: “You’re offering confusion.”
Eric: “I’m being thorough!”
Tim: “You’re being the old man from Funny Farm.”
Eric: “That man gave excellent directions!”
Everyone: “Those movers were LOST.”
Eric: “But they had character!”

🎯 THE GPS REBELLION:
New shop policy:
Eric: “Okay so you’re gonna—”
Everyone: “Address.”
Eric: “But I know the way!”
Everyone: “ADDRESS.”
Eric: “You’ll miss the scenic—”
Everyone: “WE DON’T WANT SCENIC. WE WANT TO ARRIVE.”

🎂 HAPPY BIRTHDAY ERIC:
Despite your directional DNA, we love you.
You’re excellent at:
✅ Tire sales (legendary)
✅ Customer service (professional)✅ Service writing (organized)
✅ Putting up with us (patience)
✅ Groundhog Day celebrations (spiritual)
You need work on:
❌ Understanding that GPS exists
❌ Not warning people AFTER they leave
❌ Judging bridge safety (“termites holding hands”)
❌ Teaching your children navigation
❌ Accepting that 1987 landmarks are gone

🎁 YOUR BIRTHDAY GIFT:
A GPS unit.
For you.
And one for your daughter.
Both pre-programmed.
Both with a button that says “JUST USE THIS.”
Eric: “But the scenic routes—”
Us: “No.”
Eric: “The historical landmarks—”
Us: “GONE.”
Eric: “Faith in our forefathers—”
Us: “TERMITES.”

🎉 IN CONCLUSION:
Happy Birthday Eric!
You’re valued. You’re appreciated. You’re a tire sales legend.
But please:
When someone needs directions, just send the address.
Your daughter went south when you said north.
We’ve all been lost following your directions.
The bridges are termites holding hands.
The barns don’t exist anymore.
GPS works. We promise.
We love you anyway.
Happy Birthday.
- The Team (directionally challenged by proxy)

P.S. - To visit Eric: 3093 Columbia Blvd, Bloomsburg, PA. GPS recommended. Do NOT call Eric for directions.
P.P.S. - “But I wouldn’t go that way if I were you” - Old Man, Funny Farm / Also Eric, every time
P.P.P.S. - Eric’s daughter made it home safely. GPS saved the day. Eric’s directions did not.
P.P.P.P.S. - “Have a little faith in our forefathers!” - Crocker, Funny Farm / “YOUR forefathers!” - Mickey / Also us every time Eric suggests a bridge
P.P.P.P.P.S. - Chase stole hoagie #366. Unlike Eric’s directions, Chase’s path is direct and efficient.
P.P.P.P.P.P.S. - Happy Birthday Eric. May your tire sales continue. May you discover GPS. May your daughter also discover GPS.
🎂🗺️🌉📱🧬