Cuyahoga Auto Credit

About this location

A few stories people tell about this place

1. One day, a delivery driver asked curiously: ‘Why does Cuyahoga Auto Credit always leave their doors wide open?’ A friendly neighborhood mechanic overheard and joked, 'They never lock up because they’re waiting for their secret client—the ghost of a long-gone owner who only pays cash!' The delivery driver shook his head, smiling, as he walked away, wondering if maybe it was time for some new office decorations.

2. At dawn, when most people were still dreaming of cars they couldn’t afford, an old man walked into Cuyahoga Auto Credit with a strange request. He asked the clerk, 'Do you sell cars that come with their own personal mechanic?' The clerk smiled and replied, ‘Not exactly, sir. But I do have a car that fixes itself—just needs some gas every now and then.’ The old man laughed heartily, shook hands with everyone in sight, and drove off in a shiny red vehicle, leaving behind whispers among employees that he’d probably just bought himself a new best friend—a delivery driver.}

3. At midnight, when city streets fell silent, a delivery driver noticed something peculiar outside Cuyahoga Auto Credit. The lights were on, but no one seemed to be inside. Curious, he peered through the window and saw only an old radio playing softly in the empty lobby. Suddenly, a voice crackled over the speakers: 'Next customer, your payment is ready!' Turns out it was just an automated system welcoming ghostly visitors. The delivery driver shook his head with a smile, thinking maybe cars weren’t the only things getting credit here.

4. At midnight, when city streets fell silent, a delivery driver noticed something peculiar outside Cuyahoga Auto Credit's dimly lit parking lot. Curious, he peered through the darkness and saw an old man pushing a shopping cart filled with mismatched tires and hubcaps. ‘Must be a regular,’ thought the driver, smiling. The next morning, everyone in town knew that Mr. Johnson from down the street traded his car for groceries every Wednesday.’