Dear Editor:
Bobby Brooks died last week. He wasn’t a relative of mine or a neighbor. He was my auto mechanic. I met him almost fifteen years ago after moving here. It didn’t take long to realize that he was an extraordinary person. He was more than just a mechanic. He was an artisan with a wrench. He was a real life computer, able to comprehend and analyze incredible amounts of information. He was a Norman Rockwell figure in life form. He was a friend.
Sometimes we take our vehicles for granted and forget how being ourselves is often dependent on them. Just try not having one for a while. Bobby took care of the vehicles that my wife and I have had over the years, but I am not writing this simply because of that. I am writing because of who he was and how much I appreciated him.
Bobby, along with his brother Russel, ran Scotty’s Muffler Shop down in Ronceverte. I don’t know who Scotty is/was. I just know that he isn’t around any more. More recently, Bobby ran the place by himself. Besides the usual oil changes, brakes and tires, Bobby would change out whole engines and transmissions and all other kinds of gizmos in a vehicle. He would have two or three of these jobs going at any one time, with what seemed like a thousand small parts laying on the floor. I asked him one time how he remembered where all the parts went. He simply said, “I don’t know how, I just know.”
In today’s world of big box stores and national chains, Scotty’s Muffler Shop, like others that we are fortunate to have here in Greenbrier County, is a throwback to the days of the mom and pop store that we all seem to long for. Bobby had a very simple business model; fix people’s vehicles and ask a fair price. It worked like a charm and he had a loyal band of customers, myself included.
The shop was every bit a part of small town Americana, something my wife and I were longing for when we moved here from the hustle, bustle of the Washington, DC area. Over time we started calling Bobby’s shop “Mayberry” because being there was like being in that mythical place on the Andy Griffith show where life was good and the pace was slow. Bobby didn’t believe me when I told him that, but when I showed him that that is how it was listed in my cell phone he burst out laughing.
Some might say that Bobby was “blunt,” but those who knew him knew that it was his act and that he was soft as a marshmallow on the inside. He would sit in his “office” out front with his friends and watch Hogan’s Heros or other such programs and you realized early on that you didn’t interrupt him or try to talk to him until the show was over. When it was, he would stand up and say “Are you going to bring that car in, or not?” It was never mean spirited, it was his form of humor. I would laugh on the inside and at times laugh out loud as well.
My wife had wanted a new stove, preferring a gas stove to the electric one that we had. One day I noticed that Bobby had an almost new stove just sitting in the back of his shop. Trying to be the shrewd businessman, I told him that if it worked, I would give him a hundred dollars for it. He told me it did work and if I really wanted it, I could have it for free. He was that kind of guy.
I sensed there was something wrong last week when I drove down to his shop to take him a Christmas present. The place was closed and I thought that was unusual. It was a couple of days before Christmas so I thought he was finally taking a little time off and good for him for that. I found out today that he would be gone a lot longer. So, goodbye my good friend, goodbye.
Greg Zafros
Lewisburg