Honesty keeps 10th Street Automotive running

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Just east of the Fremont Street Experience, ragged women in short skirts sashay along cracked sidewalks. Homeless people in search of shade crouch against a concrete wall protecting a low-rent RV park. Weeds grow in empty lots. Once-prosperous businesses are shuttered.

It’s the part of Vegas tourists never see unless they veer off track. But at the corner of 10th and Fremont streets sits a slice of television’s fairy tale community of Mayberry. It’s 10th Street Automotive. And although you won’t find Andy Griffith’s buddy Goober tinkering with an engine, you might find Homer.

Homer Powell and his wife Maridee “Dee” have operated the family-owned auto shop downtown for 33 years. Unless your car happens to conk out in front of the little business, you might never know it’s there.

They don’t advertise on the Internet or television. Instead, the couple, who look like an older version of Hank and Peggy Hill from the animated “King of the Hill,” go the old-school route. They run an ad in the phone book. There are no modern oil wells for changes, just a lift that hoists your vehicle while mechanics go to work.

Payment plans are sealed with a handshake.

Their run has not been easy given the location, an inundation of chain auto shops and, more recently, unlicensed shops that have sprouted up downtown. The couple estimates there are more than 50 of the unlicensed businesses.

But the Powells continue to plug along.

Dee and Homer are dedicated to keeping Dee’s father’s mission alive. He wanted to provide a trustworthy business where motorists, particularly women, can take their cars without fear of being ripped off. After all, this town is known more for its four-flushers than honest business owners.

“This has always been a priority with daddy and Homer,” Dee said. “We take care of women, but it’s not just about taking care of women. It’s the way we do business.”

This is certainly not to say that all women know nothing about car work. But some, myself included, would believe it if they were shown a Hummer’s air filter and told the filthy thing was yanked from a Yugo.

Dee’s father opened his first gas station in 1951 on land across from what eventually would become the Sands casino. It was an ideal location, essentially the last stop for tourists headed home to California.

Dee’s father, Salty Smith, opened the shop on Fremont and 10th in 1966. Homer and Dee worked for Smith until he turned over operations to the Powells.

Newcomers to any city immediately search for two dependable professionals: doctors and mechanics. The Powells know this. They acknowledge they might not be the least expensive shop, but that’s because they insist on using quality parts. They’ve only received two formal complaints with the Better Business Bureau over the years. Both were tossed out in court.

“Homer likes to get paid for what he does. He’s not the cheapest, he’s not the most expensive, but he’s honest and stands behind what he does,” Dee said.

While Homer oversees the auto work, Dee shuffles paperwork and handles the business end at a small desk that sits below an aluminum thermometer that advises, “Drink RC Cola.” The sign is probably as old as the shop.

The couple refuses to succumb to the rough times. They love what they do, and their small staff has families to feed.

“It keeps our oldest son doing what he loves doing, and we have two guys with families we’re trying to keep employed,” Dee said.

In the late 1970s, it was the gasoline shortage. They watched as cars lined up, but they were limited in how much gasoline they could dispense each day.

“We would run out and go on vacation,” Dee said.

At times, elements of the surrounding neighborhood crept into Mayberry. Homer was offered drugs if he was willing to violate the fuel restrictions. Or, the Powells would be threatened with violence when they posted a sign on the last car they were able to serve.

As more auto repair businesses moved into the community, the couple witnessed scam after scam, stories about mechanics packing razor blades and puncturing holes in oil tanks, some pouring liquid on a hot alternator to make steam. Simple fixes were made to look like major problems.

Now the shop is dealing with a lagging economy and the federal government’s “cash for clunkers” program.

“It’s a big snowball rolling downhill, and you never know when it’s going to stop,” Homer said. “Obama’s program is killing the industry because he’s taking clunkers off the road that we work on. New cars won’t need services for three years.”

One of the biggest secrets to the shop’s success is that nobody — Homer, his son Ron and two other mechanics — works on commission; so there’s no incentive to sell unnecessary parts to drive up bills.

“That’s the worst possible thing to happen to a shop, to work on commission,” Homer said. “The more parts they sell, the more money they make.”

Moments after making the comment, Homer continues to shake his head as if that thought were unfathomable. But in reality, it’s probably why the big chains survive and the little mom-and-pop shops struggle to keep the doors open.

“Homer is one of the last good guys,” Dee says.

And that’s no reference to a chain store.

If you have a question, tip or tirade, call Adrienne Packer at (702) 387-2904, or send an e-mail to roadwarrior@review journal.com. Include your phone number.