We had a mechanical breakdown last week. The battery-operated grass trimmer bit the dust. The hubby did a little research on the internet and tracked down a place not so very far from us that is authorized by the dealer of said trimmer to do repairs.
Since I was going out anyway, I was deputized to deliver the trimmer to the repair shop. I got there, only making one wrong turn and having to park a fair bit from the shop. Let me just say, walking with a long, heavy trimmer on a hot day? Not the most fun.
Anyhoodle, I get to the shop, step through the door - and I am transported back in time to the days when folks got things like toasters repaired instead of just buying new ones. It was a bigger shop than one would suspect from the outside, with a small area in front of the counter, and the workshop behind. I could see glass containers for every blender known to man (or woman). There were many dark, greasy metal objects that must be pieces to...things. And it was clearly a mom-and-pop sort of operation.
I tell you, it totally warmed those cockles of my heart not already warmed by the walk in the sun carrying the trimmer.
They took the trimmer and we have to call back at the end of the week for the prognosis. That would be a downside to taking something to be repaired vs. buying a new one - the wait. OTOH, it may save us some money and it's surely better to re-use than send the old trimmer to the landfill, although if it costs more to fix than replace? We will replace.
But whatever happens, for those few minutes I stood in that shop, I was filled with a giddy euphoria that, had I described the feeling to the woman behind the counter, would likely have been taken for sunstroke.