Unlicensed New York Street Mechanics

January 21, 2005 by Dane | 1 Comment
In Entrepreneurial Lifestyle, Legal, Posts

Houston Chronicle:

The men saunter up and down a littered block of Third Avenue in the Bronx, casting glances at passing cars. When the cars slow down, the men mouth silent promises of a cheap fix. When the drivers pull over, the men scan for cops before sliding up to the curb.

It is a singular hustle. There are no drugs or sex. Instead, the hoods of the cars fly open and the men get to work, pulling out greasy tools to perform every mechanical remedy from oil changes to hair-raising tuneups and axle replacements, right on the street.

In the vast underground of New York’s economy, street mechanics hold a peculiar, if utilitarian place. For people who balk at a $30 oil change, there is Country, a 41-year-old Virginia native who charges a third of that, jacking up his clients’ cars as rush-hour traffic creeps by. In the expert hands of Chino and Heavy, a $200 brake job costs half as much, parts included.

On busy days, cars line Third Avenue like sick patients, propped up by metal jacks, worn-out tires flung to the side. The mechanics disappear underneath, their boots peeking out, their tools splayed on asphalt outside the neon blink of auto parts shops.

Sometimes ingenious, sometimes deceptive, they form a blue-collar rung in the city’s freelance work ladder. They are mobile, carrying their tools in rollaway suitcases, on call around the clock by cell phone or pager.

via Hit and Run.

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Comments

  • Chuck on January 21st, 2005 at 9:08 am

    An amazing article… you’d think that they were criminals buying body parts on the black market instead of gypsy entrepreneurs trying to make a living.

    I had a friend once in a major northern city who started a photo developing business in the basement of his row home. There was NO additonal traffic… no customers, etc because he picked up business at pharmacies, local stores, etc.

    (This was before the personal computer and digital imagery competition by the way….)

    There were drug houses on his block and behind him. He’d bought the row home because rehabbing a relic was all he could afford.

    His “neighbors” complained and the city shut him down.

    But they never seemed to be able to shut down the drug houses.

    He’s in a rural southern state now…

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