"Score 1 for The Good Guys"
by Allen Herman

His name is Tom… Tom Riley to be exact… and he is my friend. I first met him some thirty years ago when my wife and I purchased a home in Lower Moreland on Fisher Road. He owned, and still does, a Liberty gas station on the corners of Philmont Avenue and Byberry Road.

At first I would stop in and purchase gas. As time went on one or more of our cars would "take sick" and I began to take them to Tom for repairs, first minor and then major. To be open, I have little understanding of automobiles. If they don't start, the battery is alive and I am not out of gas, I am clueless. So I found myself using him and his gas station on the corner as my "go-to mechanic."

Every time I had a problem I headed down the street.

I found Tom to be quick, honest, reasonable and, most important, competent. So I used him for all my repairs as well as gas. And over the years we began to talk, share some thoughts, reveal a little about ourselves to one another and slowly we became friends. While I learned something about Tom, he learned far more about me.

He watched my children grow, graduate the Lower Moreland school system and go on to college. He even lent my younger son a couple of bucks when we weren’t home and once drove miles to help my sister-in-law when she experienced a mechanical problem. In a sentence, I found him to be a good guy; one whom I would recommend to friends and family.

Recently I discovered just what a REALLY good guy Tom is. In fact, that is the reason for this little story. Our son was returning from Israel and I thought I'd surprise him. I decided to have his car detailed before his arrival.

When I started the car and headed for the detail shop I discovered that the “low coolant” light was blinking. I immediately stopped and purchased a gallon of anti-freeze. When it didn’t do the trick I poured one more container into the radiator while the engine was running. That did the job and I continued my travels.

My travels lasted just three traffic lights until the pesky little critter on my dashboard began to glow again. Now just three blocks from Tom's, I slowly drove over to his station and left the car, the key and a note in his night box. I called Linda to come pick me up. I figured I would call Tom in the morning and discuss my problem. I was certain the radiator in my son’s Pontiac had gone bad. Remember that I have little understanding of autos.

Not surprisingly, before I had a chance to call Tom he contacted me. Our problem (I use the pronoun "our" because when our son’s car is sick "I" pay the doctor!) was not the radiator, it was the water pump. And for reasons I really don’t understand, water pumps are an expensive replacement. Nevertheless, I told him to replace it so that the car would be ready when the “prodigal” one returned.

Further examination revealed more bad news. The defective water pump had allowed anti-freeze to seep through and severely damage the engine. I could tell the four hundred dollar job was now becoming a four thousand dollar job. After I sobbed uncontrollably for about ten minutes I finally contacted the station and asked the question I didn’t want answered. "How much?" Tom was out and I didn’t get the answer for almost two hours.

And then I heard, "The repair would cost zero!"
I couldn’t believe my ears. Zero!

Tom had remembered that we had purchased the car for Gabe when he graduated high school and was about to go to college. He knew me and he knew how I acted. So he got the vin number off the car and contacted GM on a hunch. He suspected that I had purchased an extended contract on the vehicle and he believed that it was less than five years ago.

His suspicion had been correct. I had indeed purchased an extended warranty and it had another three days to go! Without ever calling me he had the car flat-bedded to Faulkner on Street Road (Nice people where we had purchased the Pontiac and just about every other car we have ever owned.)

Without another word other than four hundred thank you’s, I jumped into my own chariot and headed over to Faulkner. They quickly informed me that the car had already been delivered. It was indeed still under contract and that it was being repaired FREE of charge. These guys were just about as nice as Tom. Two days later the G-6 was ready for its owner's return.

This is a true story. It's a true story about something that happened to me in "today's world." At a time when everything and everyone seems to have gone amuck, Tom Riley reminds us that things can be different. Service can still be provided.... even if it means you lose the job "today." Truth is, you'll probably get it back tenfold, "tomorrow."

I hope the "Tom Riley's" around are not a vanishing breed. I'd like to think we just don't hear enough about them. All we hear about are those that take advantage and do wrong. If only we would publicize the "good" instead.

In the meantime, my thanks go out to Tom. Thank you, thank you, thank you Tom! You saved me a lot of money and cost yourself a job.... but only THIS job. If anyone out there needs an honest man to tend to their car, you might head over to Tom Riley’s Philmont Auto on the corner of Philmont and Byberry. I don't think you'll be disappointed and you might make yourself another good friend.

And tell him I said, Hello! It's the nice thing to do!!

Allen Herman
Your opinions are always welcomed.
uptightsuburban@aol.com