One of the most dependable and loyal businesses in the glory days of Preston was Carter Brothers Automotive. A family business run by three brothers, Lyle, Glen and Paul Carter. If my self-taught mechanic dad could not fix the problem himself, our vehicles and farm equipment went straight to Carter Brothers. Whenever I was home for college breaks, that is where I took my Camaro for oil changes or diagnostics on that annoying engine noise.
I recall standing in curiosity watching Lyle trying to find the source and cause of a high squealing sound emanating from somewhere in the engine compartment. He used a medical stethoscope on the different parts of the engine trying to locate the source.
Was he just humoring me or was that really a thing? We never did diagnose or fix that problem, it continued to pester me for the life of the car.
I knew Lyle best, as his daughters were in my age group, and they were neighbors only a block or two away. I was familiar and friendly with Glen from our interactions at the shop. Paul was less interactive with me but always good for a wave and hello. A visit to Carter Brothers with my dad was always guaranteed for some laughs and teasing among the adults. As a teenager, my expected behavior was to just stand there, listen and learn. And boy did I! Not all of the knowledge gained there, as my brother Craig can attest, is shareable in this format. The important component of learning how to conduct business and friendships as men was taught by my dad in accompanying him to places like Carter Brothers or to Mr. Jorgensen’s blacksmith shop.
I used to offer a silent prayer, while trudging along on the tractor pulling those moldboard plows, that something on the plow or tractor would break down. That would give me a break and probably necessitate a trip to town for parts…and a milkshake from Polar Bear. The best-case scenarios might include a drive up north to Pocatello to the Caterpillar dealer, or as Dad liked to call it: “The Cat House.” Such a situation would greatly decrease my plow jockey seat time in the hot sun and dust-filled air. One day, a metal brace on the plow snapped in two. I alerted my dad and his assessment was that it could be easily fixed with a weld. He did not have a welder and did not know how to weld. We detached the plow shear with the dangling brace work and headed to Mr. Jorgensen in town for a quick repair. Here is where I learned one of those lessons of doing business I alluded to earlier. Mr. Jorgensen required less than five minutes to weld the broken parts together and make them strong and useful again. With our arrival, he stopped the project he was working on and turned his attention to get us back out to the grain fields quickly. “What do I owe you?” Dad asked, “Oh, nothing, it’s nothing to worry about,” were the Scandinavian welder’s words in a fascinating accent. “No! I insist. You deserve something for your work” and Dad handed him a $5 bill (1975 money). As we climbed back in the truck, he said to me, “Always pay a man for his honest work.” Simple words in a simple time from a wise man.
Carter Brothers were just like Mr. Jorgensen. They provided honest work, at an honest rate and always went the extra mile to help their customers. Here is an example of such ethics. On another hot harvest day, I pulled into the yard behind our house to unload the filled-to-the-brim grain truck into the storage granaries. I realized something was not quite right under the hood. While the grain funneled out of the truck into the auger, I opened the hood and immediately spotted the problem. The fan belt was barely hanging on by a few threads. There was no way it was going to survive the 10-mile return trip to the farm. I finished the unloading process and started to gather the tools I needed to try and replace it myself. No spare belt could be found out on the workbench in the shed. With the old belt in hand, I jumped in the family car and drove up to Carter Brothers assuming they would have the new belt in stock. Sure enough, they did. As I explained the predicament to Lyle, he simply grinned at my novice attempts at mechanical skills and offered to accompany me back to the house to supervise my repair job. To summarize, all went smoothly. The belt was on and tight and I received a passing grade from Lyle on my first-ever solo fix-it endeavor! It was a delay in the harvest routine but forgiven by Dad when I proudly explained the details of how “I fixed it myself.” His eyebrows did not elevate when I concluded my story with the fact that Lyle helped me “a little.” He knew the character of all the Carter boys and was not a bit surprised by their attitude of customer service.
Word limits prevent the telling of many other stories about how small town family businesses like Carter Brothers Automotive, Jorgensen Blacksmith shop and others made Preston the best place to live and get your vehicles serviced. To all those men, named and unnamed, thank you for the example lessons you taught me. Thank you for the laughs, the smiles and the interest you had in the well being of our family. Job well done!
Todd Thomas was born and raised in Preston. He’s currently serving his fourth term on the Preston City Council and works full time as a physical therapist. He can be reached at toddt@prestonid.us.
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We welcome comments, however there are some guidelines:
Keep it Clean: Please avoid obscene, vulgar, lewd, racist or sexual language. Don't Threaten: Threats of harming another person will not be tolerated. Be Truthful: Don't lie about anyone or anything. Be Nice: No racism, sexism or any sort of -ism that is degrading. Be Proactive: Report abusive posts and don’t engage with trolls. Share with Us: Tell us your personal accounts and the history behind articles.