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I was just in there yesterday. Angie (Rob's wife) greets me with a, "Hey Brett, whattaya lookin' for today?". When I tell her I need body parts, she says, "Ok, sounds like a Rob thing".
I sit on a barstool in front of the counter listening as Rob patiently explains to someone how to pull the rotor off their 1970something YamaHondaZukiSaki (which he's probably doing for the 4,000th time) using the MotionPro puller they just bought off him, and browsing the myriad of side covers and tailpieces hanging from the ceiling in case I see what I'm looking for.
The stuffed raccoon wearing sunglasses and holding a Red Bull in one paw and a smoke in the other is still nestled in amongst a bunch of gas tanks, watching the counter from a shelf above. Rob and his two boys who work there are still lighting up cigarettes as they talk to customers and run around grabbing parts and writing up tickets (they still use a manual credit card cha-chink thing with carbon paper too) for their sales.
So Rob gets done with the two or three people in there, then he and I talk about what I'm working on now, and as I'm carrying a helmet, asks me what I rode today. He comes outside to look at my GPZ, tells me he has an exhaust for it upstairs if I ever want to go back to stock, and then sells me two CB900F side covers for $40 total.
He then tells me to check in with him next week, somebody is supposed to be bringing in a GS1000 chain drive bike to part out. He doesn't know the year or if it's an E or not, but tells me if it's a '78 and the tank is nice he'll hold it for me and sell it to me for $150.
Before Angie started calling me Brett, he used to refer to me as "Mr. Suzuki". She told him that was rude and he needed to remember my name.
I like the joint.
I sit on a barstool in front of the counter listening as Rob patiently explains to someone how to pull the rotor off their 1970something YamaHondaZukiSaki (which he's probably doing for the 4,000th time) using the MotionPro puller they just bought off him, and browsing the myriad of side covers and tailpieces hanging from the ceiling in case I see what I'm looking for.
The stuffed raccoon wearing sunglasses and holding a Red Bull in one paw and a smoke in the other is still nestled in amongst a bunch of gas tanks, watching the counter from a shelf above. Rob and his two boys who work there are still lighting up cigarettes as they talk to customers and run around grabbing parts and writing up tickets (they still use a manual credit card cha-chink thing with carbon paper too) for their sales.
So Rob gets done with the two or three people in there, then he and I talk about what I'm working on now, and as I'm carrying a helmet, asks me what I rode today. He comes outside to look at my GPZ, tells me he has an exhaust for it upstairs if I ever want to go back to stock, and then sells me two CB900F side covers for $40 total.
He then tells me to check in with him next week, somebody is supposed to be bringing in a GS1000 chain drive bike to part out. He doesn't know the year or if it's an E or not, but tells me if it's a '78 and the tank is nice he'll hold it for me and sell it to me for $150.
Before Angie started calling me Brett, he used to refer to me as "Mr. Suzuki". She told him that was rude and he needed to remember my name.
I like the joint.
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