...
"All you have to do is go to Pep Boys and get a $2.19 can of Clear Coat to put over it. We do it in the garage where there’s no wind because the wind can make it look flat. Just go underground. Go into an underground area, spray it on and you’re done. That’s it. You’ll be fine...."
rapid eye movement
fiction by mike daily
Trader Joe’s, American Spirit, R.E.M. Monster. I turn down the volume so I can hear the guy calling to me from his car.
"What?" I say.
"I said I could fix that damage on your left rear bumper," he says. "I work in a body shop and I could fix that for you no problem."
"How much?"
"Seventy bucks. Take me 25 minutes."
"I’m kind of in a hurry right now," I say. "Do you have a card?"
"A card? I have my tools with me to fix it right now. Everything I need is in my trunk. I could follow you to your house or wherever—the side of the road. Sixty bucks."
"I could only afford, like, forty."
"Forty bucks! Let’s go."
He executes a three-point turn behind me. I put out my smoke in a can of caffeine-free Coke. I go. I pull into the parking lot of a park and park.
"Can you pull up into the shade, boss?" he says. "Down at the end? Yeah, down there. Thanks."
I pull up into the shade. I get out.
He’s already taking a tool kit from his trunk.
"Can you tell me what you would do?" I say.
"Okay," he says. "First I sand the area with three different kinds of sandpaper so it’s all smooth. Then I apply a coat of primer to the area. Then I spray it with paint. I have seven different colors of paint in my trunk. And that’s it."
"That’s it?"
"That’s it."
"Do you have this same color?"
"Well, it’s not Ford paint but it’s close. Gloss black. You won’t be able to tell the difference."
"I’m worried about how it would blend in," I say.
"All you have to do is go to Pep Boys and get a $2.19 can of Clear Coat to put over it. We do it in the garage where there’s no wind because the wind can make it look flat. Just go underground. Go into an underground area, spray it on and you’re done. That’s it. You’ll be fine."
"I don’t know," I say.
"It’s up to you, boss. Whatever you wanna do. You go to a garage and they’re gonna charge you $170 to do the same thing. It’ll take me 20, 25 min—ooh! See those dents on the side of your car? Right there?"
"I see them."
"I could fix those too," he says. "A hundred bucks for everything."
"Could I give you a call for this?"
"I won’t have my tools. I just happen to have all my tools with me right now. This is just a chance thing, you know?"
"I know," I say.
"I saw the damage on your bumper and thought I’d offer to fix it."
"I appreciate it."
"And I could really use the forty bucks."
I look at my car.
My car.
"It’s up to you, boss," he says. "How did this happen? Someone hit you?"
"I let a kid drive my car one night and he backed it into a telephone pole. The pole was wrapped with steel."
"It flexed the bumper and made it crack, yeah, I see that. It’ll look a lot better than it looks right now, I’ll tell you that."
"I’m just worried about how it would blend in. It might look more noticeable."
"Clear Coat," he says. "Just spray it on. Clear Coat."
"Yeah."
"Yeah?"
"I mean, No," I say. "No thanks. Thanks though."
He doesn’t say I’m welcome. He doesn’t say anything. He puts the tool kit away, gets in his car and starts the engine.
"Up to you, boss," he says.
He drives off.
"Up to you."
