Читать книгу The Healthy Mechanic - Tim Scapillato - Страница 10

Ben sat across the desk from Max Farley, his lifelong friend and business associate.

“It was definitely old Parsnips,” explained Ben. “I’m not sure whose body he was in, but it was him. Forget everything that you remember about him, Max. People can change, and this guy has proven that in a big way.”

Ben and Maxwell Farley had been close friends since the sixth grade. They spent five years together at Confederation High School under the supervision of one of the sternest vice-principals ever hired by the Ottawa school board. Parsons was a natural leader who commanded respect. He expected his students to put the maximum effort into every endeavour. The results spoke for themselves: the school was regarded as one of the finest in the province for academic and athletic excellence.

Ben’s scholastic accomplishments were the result of dogged determination and hard work, much of it inspired by VP Parsons. He learned that he would have to work twice as hard as more academically gifted students, but that didn’t bother him. The final result was all that mattered. But it was a different story when it came to physical activity—Ben was a naturally gifted athlete who excelled at every sport in which he participated. His academic excellence, top physical conditioning and athletic prowess made him one of the most popular students on campus.

Ben’s high profile on campus was in stark contrast to that of his best friend, Max Farley, a brilliant student who was more comfortable in the library than on the track. The extent of Max’s exercise consisted of strolling through the stacks in the library. His sharp intellect and dry wit were housed in a frail physique. Parsons had no complaints about Max’s academic achievements, but he felt that a student should be “well-rounded”, and continually urged him to join an extra-curricular activity.

When Max joined the drama club as a stagehand, Parsons considered it a coup; when Max pulled out at the last minute and convinced Ben to fill in for him, the vice-principal couldn’t contain his disappointment and anger. With only one rehearsal under his belt, Ben was thrown into the infamous scene change that earned him the tagline, “I’m still waitin’, Dayton”. Ben and Max moved up several notches in Parsons’ black book and held their positions for the remainder of their high school years.

“Did he ask about me?” Max wondered. “Are you sure he knew it was you?”

“No, and yes, to answer both of your questions.”

“Ben, why the sudden interest in your health, your high school vice-principal and an auto mechanic from Wakefield? This sounds like the plot for a cheesy B-movie. Is there something you haven’t told me?”

Max knew Ben well enough to know that there had to be more to this story. And Ben knew Max well enough to know that he couldn’t hide very much from him. So he left nothing out when he told Max about his health concerns, his visit to the doctor, and the disturbing test results. When he finished, Max sat back and let out a long, slow whistle.

“This sound pretty serious, Ben. Are you sure you want to spend your time with a mechanic named after a dictionary? Shouldn’t you be spending more time with your doctor? Wouldn’t it be better for you to get a prescription instead of an oil change in Wakefield?”

If humour was the glue that cemented Ben and Max’s friendship in the early years, it was the exhilaration of starting and launching a high-tech company that kept it going. In his final year of university, Max developed a computer program that would revolutionize the world of sport, an irony that was not lost on anyone who knew him. But even the most innovative invention needs to find its way to the marketplace, and Max knew that Ben had the business acumen and personal connections to make his invention a success. By the time they were in their mid-thirties the future of their company looked very promising.

“Frankly, Max, I’m not sure what to do. I only know three things for sure: one, I am in rotten physical condition; two, I have to change my lifestyle if I’m going to survive long enough to make our first million; and three, when I left my doctor’s office I had the most unlikely encounter imaginable, and it resulted in an offer of a way to change my life. You know me, Max—I don’t believe in omens and that kind of stuff, but this is just too weird to ignore. It can’t hurt. I mean, my car is due for an oil change, anyway. Why don’t you come with me?”

“Me?” asked Max, incredulous. “You want me to spend my Saturday morning with old Parsnips? That would be worse than a weekend detention. Besides, I’m in good shape. Seeing that old guy might be bad for my health.”

“Max, look me in the eyes and tell me the last time that you exercised. Do it with a straight face.”

“Hey, you don’t need to exercise to be healthy. I read somewhere that every human being has a finite number of heartbeats, and then they die. If you exercise too much, your heart beats faster, and you actually run the risk of dying sooner.”

“I repeat, Max, look at me with a straight face and tell me that you really believe that.”

“Only after you look at me with a straight face and tell me that an auto mechanic from Wakefield can help you stay healthy to a ripe old age.”

“OK, Max, let’s cut this out. What’s the worst that can happen? We drive to Wakefield, grab some breakfast, and I get an oil change. What’s the problem? Is it because you’re afraid of Parsons?”

“Afraid of him? Are you kidding? I was never afraid of him—I just didn’t like his style. I don’t mind meeting him again. Sure, I’ll go to Wakefield with you. To tell you the truth, I can’t wait to see what this mechanic looks like.”

“Saturday it is. I’ll pick you up at 9:00.”

“OK, but promise me one thing, Ben,” said Max.

“Maybe. What is it?”

“Promise me that you won’t go to your barber for advice on investing in mutual funds.”

“Very funny, Max. See you on Saturday.”

* * *

Ben and Max turned onto Phoenix St., a wide boulevard in a residential section of Wakefield. Max spotted a sign indicating that they were on a cul-de-sac.

“This can’t be right, Ben.”

“It isn’t, Max. It’s left. Didn’t you notice which way I turned?”

“I mean, it can’t be on this street. Where could an auto mechanic’s shop be located in this neighbourhood?”

“Hopefully on 112 Phoenix St., unless old Parsnips has led us on a wild goose chase. There it is, last house on the right, according to my instructions.”

“I think you’ve been had, my friend. I think Parsnips is finally getting revenge for all the grief you caused him in high school. He’s probably back in Ottawa sucking on a grapefruit and laughing.”

“Actually, Max, he’s right there—in front of the garage. Wave to the nice vice-principal.”

“How does this business survive? He’s in a residential neighbourhood, his shop is a double garage, and there’s no sign. How do people find him?”

Ben had to admit that he was asking himself the same questions. This was the first time he had ever brought his car for servicing to a house that was nicer than his own. He admired the towering white pines, estimating that they must be almost a hundred years old. In the previous century, most of the Ottawa River valley was covered with trees like these. A thriving lumber industry clear-cut vast tracts of these giant pines to feed an insatiable market in Europe. The trees on the Webster property had somehow survived the onslaught. If they were a century old, thought Ben, they looked remarkably good for their age.

“What is this, Ben? What’s this guy going to do—meditate before he fixes your car? What’s that? Do you hear that? Is that one of those kids on a bike selling ice cream?”

“Wait, Max. Listen. It sounds like wind chimes, or something. Hey, here comes Parsnips. By the way, don’t call him that. You can call him Vic.”

Parsons walked briskly down the driveway as Max and Ben climbed out of the car, smiling and hand extended.

“Maxwell Farley,” he announced, shaking Max’s hand profusely. Max was taken aback by the warm greeting, and surprised that Parsons recognized him. As far as he knew, Ben hadn’t told him that he was bringing a friend.

“Mr. Pars—uh, Vic. Hi. How are you? You’re looking good.”

“I’ve never been better in my life, as I’m sure you have heard from our mutual friend here. Good morning, Ben.”

“Morning, Vic. This is the right place, isn’t it?” he asked, gesturing toward the trees and the rows of vases containing cut flowers lining both sides of the path leading to the front door of the log house.

“Oh, you found the right place, that’s for sure. Come on with me, I’ll introduce you to Daniel.”

Ben and Max followed Vic to the back of the house. They passed several large flower beds on their way to the corner of the yard where Daniel sat on a bench in the shade of a pine tree, watching the goldfish swimming lazily in an outdoor pond. The air was still, and only the call of a cardinal high in the tree broke the silence. Ben surveyed his surroundings and took a deep breath. He could not remember the last time he felt this relaxed. For a moment, he had forgotten that he was here to have the oil changed in his car. A slight breeze blew across the yard, tickling the wind chimes hanging from pine branches throughout the yard. Ben began to doubt that this man knew very much about cars, but at that moment, it really didn’t matter. Max, an amateur birder, was preoccupied trying to locate the cardinal in the top of the pine tree.

“Daniel,” said Vic. “I’d like you to meet Ben and Max. Two of the finest students ever produced by Confederation High School. Of course, I only say that now that I am no longer the VP and they are no longer my students.”

“How do you do, sir,” said Ben, shaking Daniel’s hand.

“Hi there,” said Max.

“Gentlemen,” said Daniel, “welcome to my little heaven in Wakefield.”

Ben watched a sparrow land in one of the many large bowls of water on the property. These were unusual birdbaths, thought Ben, but much of what he had seen so far was out of the ordinary.

“Let’s walk,” said Daniel, gesturing to a gently sloping path leading into a ravine on the edge of the property.

Daniel stopped at the edge of the ravine. “The energy is best at this spot,” he proclaimed. Ben looked at Max, who shifted his gaze to Vic. No one spoke as Daniel surveyed the landscape. The only sound was that of the trembling aspen leaves shivering in the breeze.

Finally Daniel turned to Ben and made full eye contact, locking him in his gaze. “What kind of car do you drive?” he asked unexpectedly. The sudden shift from the transcendental to the arcane caught Ben off-guard.

“A Toyota Celica,” Ben replied. “Yellow,” he added, as though that were significant.

“Why?” asked Daniel.

“Why….what?” asked Ben, unsure if Daniel was referring to the model or the colour.

“Why did you choose Toyota?” he asked.

“Because it has a solid reputation, it’s reliable and it’s good on gas,” explained Ben.

“Do you maintain it regularly?” asked Daniel.

“Religiously,” answered Ben proudly. “That’s why I’m here today—I’m due for an oil change.”

“Approximately how much money do you spend in a year on maintenance?” Daniel asked.

“Including tires, tune-ups, oil changes, belts, and all the usual stuff, I would guess about twelve hundred dollars. That doesn’t include gas, insurance and registration.”

“Approximately how much money do you spend in a year on personal maintenance?” Daniel asked.

“I’m sorry—what do you mean by ‘personal maintenance’?”

“You spend about twelve hundred dollars a year on preventive maintenance to keep your car running efficiently and to ensure that it has a long life. It must be important to you, since you do it ‘religiously’, as you put it. I just wondered how much money and effort you spend on yourself to ensure that your body works efficiently and that you have a long life. For example, how much do you spend on exercise equipment, or perhaps fitness club memberships or even your own fitness coach? Maybe a water filter for your home, good nutritious foods, books on wellness, those types of things.”

Ben looked at Max, who stared back blankly. He looked at Parsons, who seemed to enjoy this moment, waiting eagerly for Ben’s answer. “I’m not sure. I mean, I’d have to look through my records. I know I spent quite a bit on prescription medications last year, and I have records of that.”

“Mostly symptom relief and damage control,” stated Daniel.

“Pardon me?” asked Ben.

“Prescription drugs are used mostly for relieving symptoms and controlling damage that’s already been done, but they do very little for health enhancement. I was inquiring about preventive maintenance to enhance how your body functions and reduce the chances of developing health problems. Let’s have a look at your car.”

He turned and began to walk briskly toward the house, his three guests trailing behind.