Ann Arborite Lou Caincross
"Sounds like your throw-out bearing's shot, friend," a big, smiling man behind the counter calls out. "My name's Lou. Want me to take care of it for you?" I sign the papers, and when I get the car back the next day, it has a new clutch and the noise is gone. Caincross charges me $715.
The clutch shifts with an ease and smoothness I don't remember it having even when it was new. But then in a couple days the clutch pedal starts rattling. I call Caincross, and he tells me to bring it right in.
While he takes it for a test drive, I check out the waiting room. Just about every-thing is maize and blue, from the paint on the exterior to the giveaway pens on the counter, and the walls are covered with signed U-M sports memorabilia.
"Yep," explains the sleepy-eyed young man coming out of the stock room, "they all come through here: the football players, the women's basketball players, the soccer players. And when they come through, we get their autographs." He lights a cigarette. "Hi, I'm Brian Yates, and Lou's my uncle."
I've gone to Wolverine on the advice of John Mendler, longtime owner of Mallek's Service Station. A man of few words, Mendler tersely recommended Caincross as "good, honest, and fair."