No one wants to be “that guy.” You know, the one that’s late enough for an event to make other people have to re-order the schedule and start thinking about the confrontation when he shows up? Last Saturday morning, after arguing with my wife over who was taking the kids to hockey practice and learning one has a sore knee, and not reading just how many minutes off 128, I was ‘that guy.’
As I drove to Dent Craft in Reading I wondered why I never get up there, such a nice little village, if I’d be turned away, and whether I’d catch a glimpse of the massive electromagnetic machine. What a relief when I arrived and number 2 in line was finishing up; they’d take me after all, with no fuss. With soft classic rock on the radio and the smell of coffee, the scene was low-tech artisan “chill.”
The maestro worked through a hidden passage in the side of my trunk on an ugly divot for about 20 minutes, alternately prying from inside with an assortment of metal bars, then tapping from the outside with a flat, large punch until the deep ding, the only one on my recently-acquired 42,000 mile E90 335 sedan, was completely gone, not a trace left behind. He is “the man!” Thanks, Matt for forgiving my late arrival. Next time I’ll be on time!
Image Courtesy of Dentremovalboston.com