Quick Lane

About this location

A few stories people tell about this place

1. At dawn one morning, when Quick Lane garage usually hummed with activity, a delivery driver noticed something strange. The old clock on the wall seemed to be ticking backwards. Curious, he peered closer and saw that it wasn’t really moving backward—just very, very slowly. By the time everyone arrived for work, the clock had almost stopped altogether. It turned out to be just an old-fashioned mechanism that needed oiling. Since then, Quick Lane has become known not only for fixing cars but also for its slightly slow-motion clock, which now attracts tourists from far away.

2. Late one night, as Quick Lane garage closed its doors for the day, a strange humming noise started coming from under the hood of an old truck. No one could explain it—neither mechanics nor customers had ever heard anything like that before. Suddenly, an elderly mechanic poked his head out and said, 'That’s just ol’ Blue here singing his evening song!' Everyone burst into laughter, realizing it was only the truck’s ancient radio picking up late-night talk shows. From then on, whenever someone asked about Blue, they’d smile and say, 'Oh, he’s just being himself.'

3. At dawn one morning, when Quick Lane garage usually hummed with activity, a delivery driver left an unusual note on the door: ‘Open only if you can fix what I broke last night.’ Inside, the garage was quiet as a mouse. The note led to a small, mysterious room filled with old tools and dusty parts. A regular mechanic peered inside and whispered, 'I think I can handle this.' After hours of tinkering, he emerged triumphantly, announcing, 'Fixed it—just like new!' But when asked later what exactly had been broken, everyone shook their heads and smiled, knowing that sometimes, some things are better left undiscovered.

4. At dusk one evening, while Quick Lane garage prepared for closing, a delivery driver noticed something peculiar in the rearview mirror. Curious, he turned his head and saw an old man waving from across the street. ‘Hey,’ said the delivery driver, ‘aren’t you Mr. Johnson next door?’ The old gentleman nodded with a smile, holding a bag of donuts. ‘Thought I’d drop these off—you guys always work so late.’ And with that, Quick Lane’s staff realized they weren’t closing after all; it was just another friendly neighborhood tradition.