A Ballard Mechanic Drives Home Some Points About The U.S. Auto Industry

You've got your financial analysts talking about why General Motors is laying off 74,000 workers, and you've got your president going abroad saying, "Please, please buy an American car."

And then you've got Norm Parker, a silver-haired independent mechanic who has seen 'em come and seen 'em go in 40 years of running Ballard Automotive Repair Inc.

Parker's not an example of why the United States has taken a bruising in the automobile industry, which for years was the heart and soul of our manufacturing pride.

His standards have never slipped. Although it's not possible to leave every customer satisfied - since generally the more work their old car needs, the less likely they can afford to have it all done - he and his crew work darn hard every day to send 'em home happy and safe.

Who would know better about our country's love affair with cars and the wheres and whys of how our heads were turned by foreign beauties than a man who has poked his head under the hoods of 10 to 20 cars a day for most of this half century? And if you had the ear of a master mechanic in these tough times, would you stop there? Parker, with some prodding, gave his view on running a business and running a car.

There's not a car in the world that doesn't have problems, says Parker, who keeps trim on constant movement and a lunch of bananas, cigarettes and coffee. The American cars getting major repairs on his racks, however, are there because of poor design in the 1970s and early '80s. Foreign cars more often get their engines rebuilt because they've been abused.

But as he says that, his wife of four decades is behind him shaking her head. Barbara Parker describes herself as a patriot. Her message to the public from the office at Ballard Automotive, where she's been a part of the team since it opened in 1952, would be: "America: Stay healthy and wonderful as always."

She drives American; he drives German. He says he got his 1985 BMW not because he thinks it's the best car in the world, but because he loves the way it handles.

If you really push him, Parker will say the most consistent-running cars are Mazda, Toyota and Honda. America got lazy, he said. But he springs right back with this defense: American parts are being bought all around the world, which shows we still have it.

"The later American cars are designed very well," he said. "I don't shortcut the American manufacturers. I'm very positive about them. I think they've gotten the message and they've improved."

So have the dealers, he says. Not so long ago the design problems were compounded by a cavalier attitude toward warranty work. Mechanics at some dealers work on commission, getting paid less for warranty work, and so they do it hastiest and last. That's changing now, he said, but dealers of foreign cars traditionally responded better.

"I have people bring me cars in that are still under warranty and they say, `Just fix it, I'll pay for it, but just fix it.' Very exasperated."

Americans, who turn to Japan for one in three autos, are forcing U.S. manufacturers to spruce up their act, but at the same time they're holding their old cars dearer. Cars stay on the road longer - 7.8 years - than at any time in the U.S. since the car shortage of World War II.

Many see this as yet another pale face of the country's economy, but the increase has been a little too steady to verify that. A decade ago, the average car stayed on the road 6.6 years; it was 5.6 years in 1970, 5.9 in 1960. Before World War II, it was 4.1 years.

A spokesman at the Motor Vehicle Manufacturers Association ventured that better rust resistance might be a factor, but Norm Parker figures differently.

It's tough for most people to look at paying $20,000 to $30,000 for a new car, he says. If you own an older car, you pay less for insurance, licensing and you can make a lot of repairs for the cost of a monthly car payment.

Another factor, he says, is that people now have two or three cars, and so cars are kept longer either as a second car or as the kids' car. In the old days, you did it all with one and then replaced it.

Try driving a 1951 Ford, Parker says, and you'll soon see that cars are infinitely better than they were. But that doesn't mean they're built to last.

"Everything is made minimal now because in order to meet the environmental guidelines, they have to minimize and lighten the cars," he said.

It would follow that we're taking better care of our cars, but not so.

The Service Station Dealers of America reported this week that business was off by 20 percent at repair shops in 1991. Demands for parts and service are at their lowest in 2 1/2 years.

Ballard Automotive always has steady business, but lately more of it comes from cars that are broken than from cars looking to ensure healthy golden years.

"The old expression of `pay me now or pay me later' is really true," Parker said.

He keeps the garage door open on this mid-January day because one of his workers, young Todd Jones, is replacing the hydraulic system on an old 16-ton truck too big to come inside, and it wouldn't be fair to stay cozy inside if one guy is freezing outside.

Steam rises from coffee cups lodged against radiators. Occasionally, the vrrrrp-vrrrrp-vrrrrp of power wrenches and clang of tools quiets as the mechanics do impromptu brainstorming, huddling around a car to solve a problem.

Cars require less maintenance now. You don't have to tune them as often because of electronics, but Parker believes all cars still need their oil changed every 3,000 miles. Automatic transmissions should be serviced once a year, but it seldom happens.

If you keep up preventive maintenance, a car can last long after you're sick and tired of it. Some cars reach a stage where you fix one thing one week and another the next, and then it's time to let 'em go. But it's not always true that you shouldn't put $1,000 into a car that wouldn't sell for much more because what's waiting at the used-car lot might be worse.

In one corner of Parker's shop, a trophy deer wearing an unflattering old hat looks down on a sign that says, "Nothing is impossible if you don't have to do it yourself." The deer has been there so long little droplets of oil have congealed on its whiskers.

In another corner, there's an old broom handle that has held up trunks and hoods for 15 years.

"Fits every car," says Parker, who believes a workplace has to have pride, humor and humanity.

Parker's pride, most recently, is a state-of-the-art wheel alignment ramp and analyzer. He waited years for them to make one that he likes. Now he has also found central hydraulic lifts that meet his approval. If he's not careful when they arrive, his clean but eclectic shop is going to look like some modern franchise.

But the service will be the same. Every car that comes in gets test-driven, repaired, test-driven again, and the repair verified. His philosophy: If you see a loose bolt, tighten it.

Most customers don't want to hear all the details, but Parker can't stand to not give them. He has a reputation of treating men and women alike, and he tries to drop whatever he's doing to talk to customers who wander in.

Much of his day is spent on the phone, ordering parts or talking to customers. Sometimes he gets so involved in calls that he stretches his poor phone cord across the shop to point out what he's talking about.

The reward is customers who almost always come back.

On occasion, they don't come back for the right reasons.

"I'm fine," said a man at 7:30 on a recent weekday morning, "but I'm afraid my clutch is starting to behave how it did before I brought it in to be fixed."

"If you can leave it, I'll take a look," said Parker.

And then there's the other extreme, more common.

"I'm a permanent customer," said W.B. Baker of Magnolia, who came by to visit his camper van, which is being prepped for a trip. Baker looked up Ballard Automotive in the phone book a month ago out after nearly giving up on his Plymouth Horizon. Now he's as happy as a clam.

Mechanics are trained technicians, says Parker, and few get paid as much as they're worth. He attends night classes with his five employees, including his son, Tom, to keep up on all the latest advances. Few are trained as he was, hanging around in garages starting at age 10, and apprenticing with a "super, super mechanic" at a two-pump garage after attending West Seattle High School.

Cars have a lot more doodads now, he says, but the basic principles are the same.

"People always ask me what kind of car is the best," he says. "I tell them it's whatever kind of car you like.

"But if it's used, let me check it first."