In praise of the sidewalk talyer

I was driving my 12-year-old Volvo when I suddenly heard a really loud rattling sound from the left rear corner of the car. At first I thought it sounded like a bracket supporting the exhaust system broke and the tailpipe and muffler were banging against the underside of the car.

The sound seemed to get louder the worse the road imperfections became and got really, really loud whenever I dropped the left rear tire into a pothole or when the spring/shock absorber got compressed when the car went over humps.

Good thing I was driving inside my village. I stopped, got off, and peered under the car. The exhaust system seemed to be intact, and I gave the tailpipe a few strong nudges from my foot and it held firmly. So it wasn’t the exhaust.

I looked at the coil spring expecting it to have been displaced from its spring seat but it, too, looked fine and in place.

I then tried compressing the springs by pushing the car down with my hands leaning on the trunk lid. Instantly I heard that same knocking sound and I knew what it was – broken upper shock mount.

I looked at the lower part of the shock absorber to make sure at least one end of it was secure and saw that it was, indeed, firmly bolted on tight.

Still, the sound it made inside the car was so loud and disconcerting that I felt I couldn’t drive the car all the way to the Volvo dealership in Makati without making the damage worse.

So the next morning, I drove slowly to a sidewalk car repair shop just over a kilometer away from our house to try to perform a MacGyver fix. You would know a sidewalk car repair shop a.k.a. “talyer” when a) they barely have an office or reception area, b) the guys you talk to are almost always sweaty and half covered with grease, and c) there are as many stray cats, dogs and chickens as there are mechanics.

Shouldn’t I be scared entrusting my car to these people? Well, not if I know a thing or two about cars and…certainly, not after I covered the seats and steering wheel with plastic trash bags. These people have no qualms about getting grease all over your light beige leather seats.

But “these people” know a thing or two about fixing cars. Believe me! Before long, one guy was jacking up the left rear of my car and sliding underneath it (without even a jackstand to support the car in case the jack fails!) to pull down the shock absorber.

I surreptitiously pushed a jackstand with my foot under my car. I didn’t want to have the guilty conscience of having the safest car in the world crushing my mechanic to death.

In less than 15 minutes, the guy had removed the shock absorber as well as the upper shock mount that held it to the car body. True enough, the middle portion of the metal shock mount had sheared through, allowing the top of the shock absorber to slam freely against the car’s chassis during the suspension’s compression motions.

The mechanic, who was wearing an old t-shirt (with more holes than a golf course), really filthy shorts (which held his tools and perhaps half a pound of axle grease – without the container) and the requisite slippers, took a brief look at the damaged shock mount and whipped out a really old electric welding machine.

The welding machine looked so old I wondered if it could even weld two metal wires together, let alone a critical piece of the suspension that helps support a ton and a half of Swedish automobile.

But I couldn’t think of a better way to at least enable the car to limp to Viking Cars in Pasong Tamo Extension without the top of the shock absorber pummeling the body to smithereens.

The mechanic proceeded to hammer the sheared metal into its former flat shape. To close the torn opening and restore it to a small hole where only the threaded part of the shock absorber will pass through, he used two washers which he then welded to the torn part.

This is the process which took the longest time (roughly 20 minutes) as the guy kept welding and welding and welding. In between, he’d douse the shock mount with water and just as I would think that’s he’s done, he grab the welding rod and start welding again.

Feelings of assurance that he’s making the damaged part as strong as can be were soon replaced by the thought that he might actually be approaching the point of metal fatigue.

But before I ccould point that out to him, he examined the part closely under the sunlight and smiled. It was the first time I saw him smile all day. The ironic part was that the “repaired” shock mount looked worse than ever – all black with lots of ugly looking burnt metal scars on it.

At least it’s somewhere that cannot be seen, I thought to myself. Now let’s see if it will last all the way to Makati.

I shuddered when I had to ask how much it’ll cost. The fees some of these shops charge can multiply exponentially depending on the make of your car.

Which is why my jaw dropped when they told me how much I had to pay. “150 pesos?!?” I part shouted and part asked. “Yes,” they told me with the same poker face they would’ve used had I asked them how much they’d charge to change the spark plugs of a 15-year-old Toyota Corolla.

Wow. P150 to jerry-rig a critical component on a heavy luxury car. And in less than 45 minutes!

How good was the fix? I did get to the Volvo service center without any problem – but three months later! The welding job held so well – and my schedules were so tight – I only had time to bring the car to the shop after three solid months to have the part replaced at the cost of roughly P2,000.

Who knows how long the weld might have lasted? One more week? Another three months? Two years? It’s anybody’s guess. But the moral of the story is that we should never put down these talyers for the resourcefulness and sheer ingenuity they have. And it’s something that’s sadly lacking in most “casas” with their “replace everything” mentality and their culture that won’t even allow you to watch them work on your car.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying we should abandon our five-star service centers and casas. They’re still able to perform numerous critical repairs and maintenance – especially for the newer, high-tech engines – that might leave a talyer mechanic scratching his head.

But I do miss the no-waiting-in-line and personal service you can enjoy with your neighborhood talyer. I miss it both from a customer and a shop owner’s point of view.

You see, I owned a tiny, unregistered talyer myself 20 years ago when I was in college. And I witnessed the sheer resourcefulness of my mechanics and painters and tinsmiths every single day.

It was hard to find a brand new car back in the mid-80s. Which was why small repair shops proliferated back then. I saw with my own eyes how my latero would hammer a complete new fender of a 1972 Ford Escort out of a flat GI sheet. By hand. Eat your heart out, Aston Martin! Of course, Aston Martin would never charge P800 for a handmade fender…

So the next time you see your neighborhood talyer, pay them a visit and see what they can do for you car. You might just be glad you did.

Here are some of your Backseat Driver reactions to our rant on U-turn slots from last week…

The U-turn slots work when there’s no traffic but only make the situation worse when there is heavy traffic. The pink-eyed emperor refuses to see this obvious fact. – 09196776327

I totally agree with your comments on these senseless U-turns. Driving along NAIA road from Sucat going up north is a nightmare! – 09228843663

All over the globe, U-turn slots are low-density traffic rerouting alternatives. Only in the Philippines can ONE MAN say “It ain’t so...SO?” – 09202664571

Along Commonwealth Avenue the U-turn slots work wonders in speeding up traffic flow. FYI. – 09228931071 (You know, we have to admit, we did fail to point out in the column that the U-turn scheme does work to speed up traffic in a few key places – but does not help at all in others.)

Speak out, be heard and keep those text messages coming in. To say your piece and become a “Backseat Driver”, text PHILSTAR<space>FB<space>MOTORING<space>YOUR MESSAGE and send to 2840 if you’re a Globe or Touch Mobile subscriber or 334 if you’re a Smart or Talk ’n Text subscriber or 2840 if you’re a Sun Cellular subscriber. Please keep your messages down to a manageable 160 characters. You may send a series of comments using the same parameters.)