It is an awkward turn from the residential street into the old farmyard, the place where one can repair ones car for a fee. It is a slightly messy place, with parking spaces for mobile homes that are hibernating not currently in use.
Stop the car in front of a sign that says " hier anhalten", all in block capitals.
They are still emptying the workshop, they have been using it as a store overnight. A surly man is pulling pallets loaded with tyres and welded metal items out of the big workshop, He instructs that masks are to be worn at all times. He takes this seriously. He is a serious man.
Then his wife comes over, she gives instructions as to which tools may be used and which may not. She demonstrates the car lift.
And then they go away. Push the arms of the lift under the car and raise it up to a comfortable height.
Go underneath and start to remove the plastic covers. They are tightened down with nasty screws. Realise that some of the screws are not fitted properly, somebody else has been working on this car, many of the screws are not fitted properly.
Oh well, it is an old car.
Gradually, the extent of the disaster becomes clear. The catches are all broken. There is oil and diesel everywhere, there are things leaking. This car will cost a fortune to repair.
More than it is worth.
Time flies by.
Then the time is up.
Screw back all the covers as well as is possible, and go to the little office and pay the money for the rent of the workshop to the surly mans wife.
And now all is done. Another car will be needed soon.
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