I'm fed up. I've had enough. Navy brat, my dad loved USAA, but it was built for an analog age and has some of the shittiest tech and customer support of the modern era. Sad, but I can no longer abide.
Looking for a good non-corporate Suburu mechanic Central or South Austin.
One who is good at keeping older cars running, and not charging book price for everything they touch.
Preferably a smaller mom and pop. What used to be called a “good shade tree mechanic“.
I feel like the education system of the 60s and 70s wasn’t built for undiagnosed, untreated ADHD boys like me who struggled to conform and obey.
We were tough to handle. But we were also, in many non-academic ways, very smart and extremely clever. The dirty limericks and jokes we would make up, the pranks we would play, were (old) SNL quality creativity.
The education system didn’t have a way to recognize, value and redirect that. Maybe it still doesn’t today.
I turned into a great husband, provider, dad, business owner, and a solid “good citizen” … eventually.
I owe it all to marriage and fatherhood, and the mental/psychological shift of focus that created in me. But that’s a whole ‘nother post I guess…
Been eating regular here since moving downtown 2019. Pre-2020 prices were a lot lower, but today’s prices are “not the worst” we find in Austin given the location cost and general food inflation.
Service is almost always “decent diner” level, often better. And the food is consistent over time. My go to breakfast is the 24 hash.
Just water for us both so two coffees would have upped the bill, which was about $46 after tip.
We like walking to this place at the Loren, but only for occasional splurge breakfasts with a view.
The food is decent, but not amazing. Service is generally very good, but not spectacular.
Worth a stop paired with a walk around town lake. The coffee shop downstairs is a great alternative to full meal, especially the outside patio for people watching.
We played this in elementary school. A kid would throw the kickball ball up in the air, there would be a scrum, and whoever got it would take off running, and the rest of the kids would give chase like wild banshees, and gang tackle them.
Then the tackled kid would throw the ball high it in the air, and it was rinse and repeat. I still remember the massive adrenaline rush when I was being chased. My glasses were broken once.
We had parent volunteers called “yard duties“, who would monitor recess and observe this, but never intervened. One day, a kid, the son of the yard duty mother, got his arm broke.
The next day he was out playing again, with his cast on his arm, and his mother supervising, still not intervening.
This really sticks in my mind how much leeway and freedom we had as kids to take risks, and to be rowdy, and the degree to which it shaped me even to this day.