Caliber Collision

About this location

A few stories people tell about this place

1. Late one night, a delivery driver pulled up to Caliber Collision with a frown on his face. As he stepped out of the truck, he noticed something odd—an old man in coveralls was humming softly and polishing a tire while staring intently into thin air. The delivery driver cleared his throat awkwardly. ‘Excuse me,’ he said, ‘but do you know anything about these tires?’ The old man snapped back to reality, smiled warmly, and replied, ‘Oh yes, sonny, I can fix any tire faster than you can say “blowout.”’ They both laughed, and from that day on, whenever anyone needed tire advice around town, they’d ask for ‘the guy who talks to tires at Caliber Collision.’

2. Late one night, a delivery driver pulled up to Caliber Collision with a frown. The sign above the entrance read: ‘Hours: Always Open for Your Car’s Needs.’ Curious, he parked and walked inside—only to discover the garage door had mysteriously closed behind him. Inside, everything was eerily quiet except for soft humming from an old radio. As he looked around, a friendly mechanic appeared out of nowhere, smiled warmly, and asked, 'Can I help you with that frown?' The delivery driver blinked twice before realizing it must be some kind of late-night prank gone right. He laughed heartily and said, 'Guess I'll stay a while!'

3. Late one night, a delivery driver pulled up to Caliber Collision with a frown. As he stepped out of his truck, he noticed an odd humming sound coming from inside the workshop. Curious, he peered through the window and saw a mechanic dancing wildly to some unseen music, his wrenches and tools flying in perfect rhythm. The delivery driver knocked on the door, laughing. The mechanic stopped mid-dance, blushing as he realized he’d been caught grooving to some old rock ballad only he could hear. With a sheepish smile, he invited the surprised visitor inside for a cup of coffee—after all, everyone knew that good mechanics deserve their own soundtrack.

4. Late one night, a delivery driver pulled up to Caliber Collision with a frown. ‘Why is it always me,’ he muttered, staring at the dented box in his truck. Suddenly, from inside the shop came an odd voice: ‘Hey, pal! That dent’s been here since last Tuesday.’ The delivery driver looked around, but saw no one. With a shrug, he got out and started examining the dent himself. 'Yep,' said the voice again, right behind him. 'I’ve seen worse on my lunchbox.' The driver turned—only to see an old mechanic leaning against the doorframe, grinning. They both laughed, and soon enough, the dent was fixed over coffee and stories.