Connecting Rod Ch. 03-04

"Why do we need another person?" Shelly asked.

"Because none of us have had more than one day off a week since we reopened in September. It's now December seventh. On top of that, we are all working long hours. Sooner or later, we're going to wear out. We need to bring someone into help spell us off."

Mom was nodding her agreement. The fact that I had already broached the idea with her earlier smoothed the way for the new plan.

"When do you want to do this?" Shelly asked again.

"First of January, if we can. I'll put an ad in the local paper. I'm sure we'll be swamped with applications. We should be able to find someone from that."

"Perhaps I can assist," Jurgen said in his quiet voice. "I have an acquaintance who works at the paper mill. His son is looking for work to earn money for college. I think he might be a good choice."

"Great. Let's talk to him. I want to meet his father too. I want to make sure they know what's expected of him. What's your friend's name?"

"Matti Numminen. His son's name is Miikka, but everyone calls him Mike. He is very clean and a big boy. I think he is seventeen years. I will talk to Matti if you will permit."

"Yes ... let's do that before we put the ad in the paper. It will save us time and money if he's a good prospect. Thank you Jurgen."

"You said you had a couple of things to talk about," Shelly jumped in again, this time with a smile.

"Yes. I am looking for a good quality used car. A four door sedan. It will have to be clean and in good running order. I want to use it as a courtesy car."

"What's a courtesy car?" Shelly asked.

"Something I read about in a magazine. We will use it to drive people to their work or home when they leave their car here for service or repair. If need be, we will pick them up at their work and bring them to the station when their car is ready. It will be a special service that no one else offers."

"What will it cost our customer?" Jurgen asked.

"Nothing. It's just one more thing to find and keep loyal customers. Mom and I have worked it out and we think it will be a good investment. Anyway, it's time I had a proper car and with the truck, we'll have two vehicles around for whatever we need. The truck will still be the workhorse for picking up parts and supplies."

"Jeeze, boss, that sounds pretty expensive. Are you sure you can afford it?" Shelly asked with a worried look.

"If Mom says we can, then ... we can," I grinned. I couldn't help but notice the relieved look on Shelly's face.

Mike Numminen and his father arrived at the station at five o'clock on Monday afternoon. Jurgen introduced them.

"Thanks for coming along Mr. Numminen," I greeted the father.

"It's Matti, and I'm surprised how young you are," said the big, smiling, blonde-haired man.

"Call me Rod. Yes, I guess I am. This must be Mike," I said, turning to an even bigger Numminen and holding out my hand.

The big youngster returned the gesture and nodded. "Yes, sir."

"What do you do at the mill, Matti?"

"I'm the maintenance manager. I came here with Valmet from Finland along with our new paper machine nearly ten years ago. We decided to stay when they needed someone who knew the equipment. My wife and family are very happy here," he said with a smile.

"Your son looks like prime football material," I grinned.

"Yes. He is a lineman ... offense and defense. He likes the hard work," an obviously proud father proclaimed.

"Well, I can't promise him anything that hard, but I can use a reliable, friendly young guy for work around the shop. Do you have a driver's license, Mike?"

"Yes, sir. I've been driving since last year."

"Any accidents or tickets?" I asked.

"No sir. I would lose my driving privileges if I had either," he said looking at his father.

"OK. There will be some driving duties and I need a safe driver," I explained. I turned to the father.

"Are you OK with Miikka working here?"

"Yes. I like the look of your station and Jurgen says you are a very good manager. That's good enough for me," he said with a smile.

"Well, I'll have to thank Jurgen twice then. Once for recommending your son and once for saying good things about the boss," I laughed.

Rod turned to the younger man. "Mike, your hours are Friday from 6:00 pm to 9:00 pm and Saturday from 9:00 am to 5:30 pm. We pay $3.00 per hour and time and a half for overtime. Will that be OK?

"Yes, sir. That sounds great," Mike answered enthusiastically. We shook hands on it.

"Are you familiar with Volvos," Matti asked me as we walked out of the garage.

"Yes. There were a couple of them on the base in Germany when I was there. A 1961 544 and a '64 P1800. Good solid machines. Simple and built for tough duty."

"My wife has an older 544 and it needs to be tuned and serviced regularly. I would appreciate your advice on it. She likes it, but I'm wondering if I should sell it or keep it."

"Happy to do that for you. I really enjoy working on European machines. I should be able to give you an opinion on it."

"Good. I'll have it brought in by Miikka when you have time."

The three of us shook hands and I watched as they drove off in the father's Ford Galaxy. I was happy with my newest employee on sight. He was polite, neat and big. I wondered how many of the young girls would be after this handsome young guy.

Mike started that weekend on Friday evening, showing up fifteen minutes early for his 6:30 shift. He was driving his mother's Volvo. I showed him the pumps and cash register operations while Shelly took the time to show him around the shop. His education in shop work would come as the opportunities arose. Both Jurgen and Shelly were satisfied with the young man.

Jurgen and I looked over the Numminen Volvo. It was obviously a European model as the speedometer was in kilometers per hour. They checked the odometer and saw over 273,000 registered on it.

"Wow, look at that number, Jurgen."

Jurgen smiled. "This is not unusual. Autos are very expensive in Europe as you know. You must look after them to have a long life."

We moved the car over the pit and went through the mechanicals top to bottom.

"I don't see anything really wrong with it, Jurgen. Mind you, we didn't do an engine tear-down. We should check the compression and have a look at the sump though."

Jurgen nodded his agreement as we climbed out of the pit.

I pulled the owners manual out of the glove box and went over it. I'm sure my face registered surprise.

"Jurgen ... every single service this car has had since it was bought is logged in this book. You weren't kidding about treating it with kid gloves. I wonder how much business we'd have if people in this country treated their cars with this much respect?"

Jurgen snorted his reply and went about running the compression test.

In the end, we pronounced the car sound and wondered if we were missing something. It was Matti's wife's car and that gave me an idea. I picked up the phone and called Barry Washburne at home. Barry was the owner of the San Juan Autobody. He was also a member of the Chamber of Commerce, a commercial resident of the downtown, and a new business contact for us.

"Barry, I'm sorry to bother you, but I had a quick question for you. What would it cost to repaint a Volvo 544 ... you know ... the one that looks like a forties Ford coupe?"

"Well, Rod, as long as it's not some crazy color or paint scheme, $275 to $300 should do a first class job."

"That's great, thanks. I may have a customer for you. It's a really good machine. No rust or dents. It just needs to look pretty again," I laughed.

"You send them over anytime. Thanks for thinking of us."

I hung up and pulled one of Barry's cards out of my box and set it beside the phone. I would talk to Matti tomorrow when I gave him the diagnosis on the car. A new paint job and some seat covers and this car would be transformed, I figured. A lot cheaper than a new car.

When Bart Towsley owned the station, the operating hours were 7:00 am to 5:30pm, six days a week. I surveyed both the local and interstate stations to see what their hours were. The interstate stations were open 24 hours for the most part. A few closed at midnight and opened at 6:00 am. The local town stations were generally open at 7:00 am and closed at 5:30, every day but Sunday, just like ours.

I thought about what made sense for our city-based station. Then I checked the bylaws for regulated hours of operation. On a hunch, I decided to remain open on Friday evenings, still closing on Sunday. More and more stores were remaining open until 9:00 pm on Fridays. I guessed that we might have customers taking advantage of our opening when they were shopping Friday evening.

Time would tell if the new operating hours would be profitable. For now, I had barely enough staff to man the station for the hours I had chosen. Our people were working nearly fifty hours each week and I knew that couldn't last. It would have to change in the New Year.

The week after hiring Mike, I was presented with an opportunity I couldn't resist. As I scanned the classifieds in the local paper, I saw an ad for a 1962 Mercedes 220 SE. It was the European version with the big glass headlight covers and the 2.2 litre Bosch fuel injected six cylinder engine. It had been brought over by an ex-military man and was for sale at a reasonable price. I phoned the seller and asked to see the car.

It was exactly what I wanted. Painted an off-white and in good condition with only 82,000 kilometers, I drove it for several miles to make sure all the parts and pieces were working properly. With the owner's permission, I phoned Jurgen and we met at the garage to inspect it more closely. When Jurgen gave it his approval, I knew I would buy it. Now, it was just a matter of convincing my mother.

Happily, when Jurgen approved, mother approved. She trusted his judgement and was very pleased with the elegant four door sedan. It would add a touch of class to our home, if nothing else.

Mom prodded me to get a Christmas tree for the house. She had brought all the family tree decorations with us from Cut Bank. Jurgen and I visited several of the lots in mid-December before settling on a very nice blue spruce. The ten foot ceilings on the main floor of the old home would easily accommodate the big tree and Shelly helped Mom decorate that Sunday. It would be the first Christmas together for our foursome and all of us were looking forward to it. It had taken very little time to establish our new "family."

Christmas 1968 fell on a Thursday, and I made an arbitrary decision to close the station on Wednesday at noon and open Friday at noon. I was getting more worried that I would burn Shelly and Jurgen out if they didn't get some relief. Mike was out of school all that week and he would share much of the load with me. Shelly would work half days in the morning, and Jurgen would work half days in the afternoon. Each would be paid for full time. When the station was closed at noon Wednesday, I left a note on the office door with our phone number in case of emergency.

Mom couldn't remember a Christmas she enjoyed more. She had her new "family" around her and it she said a number of times what a pleasure it was to make the Christmas dinner that year. She even attended midnight mass at the local church. It had been many years since she had observed that occasion, but she said this year was special in her mind. It was a new start after Dad's death over a year ago. She felt good about her new life in the Northwest, and her new friends.

Each of us found the time to shop for Christmas presents for the others. Mom and I had always had modest gifts for each other, but knowing the circumstances of Jurgen and Shelly, we were especially anxious not to go overboard. In the end, we found the special gifts we were looking for. I did wonder how they found the time when they were working such long hours.

They all found the same solution. They individually consulted with Mom and she became the appointed shopper. It was left to the three of us to decide what to get her. Naturally, we consulted each other. In the end, Christmas morning was a happy and very satisfying surprise for everyone.

Mom had been giving clothes to Shelly over the fall and winter. It wasn't an outward display, sometimes covered by the ruse that clothes she bought for herself didn't fit or didn't look right when she got them home. It fooled no one. Shelly and Mom were nowhere near the same size, but Shelly accepted gracefully, knowing full well the generosity of my mother was genuine.

I noticed that Jurgen wasn't left out either. The odd new sweater or shirt would somehow fit him better than me. I had to smile at my mother's little game, even though it was poorly disguised. She wanted to help and it was only polite to allow her this little extravagance.

As always, my thanks to Erik Thread for his skillful and helpful editing. Any errors are mine alone.