The inspection sticker on my truck expired last October. Today, I took it to the first place I found on Lamar Blvd., a seedy, rundown looking shop with only one other customer. I waited while a grizzly old man was finishing up an inspection for a very impatient woman. An old, slightly pimped Caddilac pulled up in front of the shop, and a young Hispanic man got out and went inside the tiny waiting room. A few minutes later, an elderly black man rode up on an ancient bicycle. He dropped the bike and hurried into the waiting room. When he passed me, I could see track marks on his arms. He was inside the room less than a minute. He came out, got back on his bike, and rode away. The grizzly old man finished the inspection, and he and the impatient lady entered the waiting room so that she could pay. I followed them. The young Hispanic man also came in. When they were done, the impatient lady hurried out and the young Hispanic man jerked his head at the grizzly old man, who said to me "My machine is broken. I cannot do any more inspections today." I said ok and left.

1 comment:

Jill said...