Marcos, Juan and Jim - Car Talk

I'd woken early, had my first cup of coffee, watched the sunrise over the lake in Fairfax, gotten another hour of sleep, had my second cup of coffee and wandered out to a glorious day wearing my Obama cap when I found a black guy under an aging Chevy van and an Hispanic guy speaking anxiously. I had no agenda and the sound of Spanish is pleasant to me so I listened in. "That lower front passenger ball joint is bad. They actually passed the vehicle at inspection?" asked the black guy. And you catalytic converter is shot.

"The black guy. The Hispanic guy. The old white dude with the Obama cap." Slightly uncomfortable speech in polite circles. The black guy is Juan from the Dominican Republic, the Hispanic guy is Marcos from Bolivia and the old white dude is me. Street speech is sometimes more precise than polite speech but we can do better by dropping the pronouns.

Marcos asks me what I think of prospects, now that Obama is President-elect. I say we are in a fix but I expect Obama to bring about a lot of public works, FDR style - roads, schools, clinics; there is a lot to be done. I add immigration reform will come but later. Juan has been here for 35 years, he came when he was 19. He'd like to go back. Life here is pressure. Tough taking care of his family and three kids. He worked three months last year. I sense he is a good mechanic, probably has other skills. He was working on "commission". That is he got a slice of the take for the work sent to him. When times were slow, his boss expected him to work for nothing. Animosity ensued. Juan tries free-lancing.

Juan works out of the back of his Chevy van, a lighter duty versions of the one belonging to Marcos. I sense that income is sporadic but tangible. There are recent boxes of replaced parts. White boxes with grease stains that haven't migrated yet and no dust or grime - just black and white. He wears rubber gloves like a surgeon when he works. Slips into meditative moments before making pronouncements. A bit like a "fair witness". He'd like to go back to the slower life in Hispaniola but he fears the illegal immigrants from the other half of the island are making life miserable. People shot, houses burned, a mini Western hemisphere version of the Congo. These people are also bringing Voodoo - calling zombies from the grave. You have to believe it to see it.

Now that the van diagnosis and treatment are resolved, Marcos explains that his Beamer is making noises too. He invites me to ride along as they go to retrieve the Beamer from another member of the network not too far away. This invitation seems a lot friendlier than the one commanded by fellows in Mississippi in 1964 so I get in the passenger seat of the Lexus, Juan in the back and we're off. The Lexus is a nice car but it too is making sounds in the front suspension, a matter we will get to later. More talk of Voodoo and Haitians. Marcos asks me what I think. "Is it real?" "Only if you believe it is it real", I reply. I rattle a few experiences I have had with Candelaria in Venezuela and Pachamama in Bolivia. Mostly to ask the Earth Goddess for "love and good fortune". Pretty safe stuff. I leave the dark stuff for others.

Juan drives the Beamer, tells me to put on my seat belt, No tickets! Mostly he drives but listens intently as he applies the brakes. I notice the clutch pedal does not retract fully and the synchro is rough. A more accustomed driver could compensate.It made me nervous. We drive a few miles out of the way and Juan stops at a house, nervously knocking on doors, then gains entrance through the garage. He returns two minutes later and I recognize the look of relief.

Back at Marcos place, Juan reaches through the mag rims and feels the rotors on all four wheels. I follow him Suzuki style and sure enough, the rotors are worn. Not nasty furrows like I am used to seeing on US cars but a clear depression. I say "siete millimetros?" Juan says "cinco". But you can't turn BMW or Mercedes rotors, you have to buy new. Marcos returns with the lower ball joint for the van and a quote of $380 for the catalytic converter. I suggest a used one. In North Carolina you can place an order on the "network" and someone will get a rude surprise the next time they start their car.

The Lexus turns out to be a lower ball joint on the passenger side. Marcos reacts in disbelief that all of his vehicles need work, expensive work. I say we are all getting older. I play a little gringo futbol with his youngest boy Mateo. His oldest boy Andre grins when I see him on the street. Marcos introduced me to his wife Elena. Juan smiles as I leave.

Race and ethnicity are myths in service to a domineering class. I personally like color and diversity. But I like being just one of the people from the 'hood better.