Life and an oil change

I spent approximately two hours at my car dealer waiting for an oil change and an inspection. I don’t particularly mind my dealer, except for the cost and time associated with any repair/service. But, the most interesting thing about the experience wasn’t either of those, but rather chatting with the people that were sitting around me.

One gentleman, launched into a story about his 1967 Mustang and how he was driving it up to Maine trying to go to a party in his youth, to find that the car shuttered and then died at the toll booth. A few phone calls, police cars and tow truck later, he found out that he forgot to put oil in the engine and burned it out.

Another older gentleman, talked about going to school in Nebraska to be a teacher, but gave up after two years because he found it so profoundly boring, “It literally was a one horse town.” He wound up being a truck driver. Preferring being his own boss and enjoying the freedom associated with not being bothered.

We talked about old actors like Katherine Hepburn, Spencer Tracey, Carey Grant and the like. We talked about the way Old Hollywood didn’t insult its audience with the garbage New Hollywood puts out now for us to consume. As someone pointed out once a long time ago, if you respect your audience you don’t insult them by making them watch garbage. And let’s face it, most of the television series are insulting with very little redeeming value in their attempt to “entertain.” There’s very little morality and an even shallower story line. And if you take a look at recent films, I would challenge you to tell me the last “great” film that you saw that would rank in the 100 best movies of all time? Chances are if you compared the volume of films released in a year only approximately .01% would classify as noteworthy, lasting the test of time, and not insulting.

Needless to say, it was a very interesting two hours and I was thankful for the moments to glimpse at these people’s lives and for the stories they had to tell. They let me in, to listen and to actually learn.I often wonder, if the art of conversation is also a dying art. We spent so much time connected to our technologies, that I contemplate how often we actually stop to actually see our fellow man.

We all have stories. Each person’s life is unique and special. But we isolate ourselves. We don’t listen. We don’t talk. We don’t extend courtesies. We don’t embrace each other on the common experience of being alive and trying to make it through to the next level.

Personally, I’m thankful for the two hours. And I can see from the expressions when we each parted company and they said, “Nice talking to you. Have a good day.” The feeling was mutual.