The New Garage

10/07/2026

🚨 WE’RE ALMOST OUT OF USED VEHICLES TO SELL. 🚨

Neil walked outside this morning to check our inventory. He returned approximately seventeen seconds later, carrying a clipboard upside down, and announced:

“We may have a situation.”

The situation is that people keep buying our vehicles.

Ordinarily, selling vehicles is considered a good thing. Unfortunately, the system begins to fall apart when customers continue buying them and nobody brings us replacements. Apparently, a used-car lot cannot operate indefinitely on optimism, empty parking spaces, and the Trax that has been “75% finished” since the beginning of recorded history.

Neil’s first solution was to start putting price stickers on the employees’ vehicles.

His second solution was to sell the rollback.

We have taken away his clipboard.

So now we’re asking for your help. The New Garage buys used vehicles that need repairs—and junk vehicles, too. Running, not running, needs work, has been sitting awhile, or has finally reached the point where every new noise requires turning up the radio—we’re interested.

Give us a call for a free quote before Neil starts pricing the toolboxes.

📞 570-784-1907
📍 The New Garage — Bloomsburg, PA

Make The New Garage your new garage.

09/24/2026

09/17/2026

**🚨 NEIL BOUGHT AN AI ROBOT MECHANIC FROM TEMU. THIS IS THE FULL STORY. 🚨**

It started, as most great disasters at this shop do, over lunch. Tim had this video pulled up of a restaurant fully staffed by AI robots, and it was an absolute catastrophe in the best possible way. Robots dropping plates. Robots delivering food to tables that didn't order it. One robot just spinning in a slow, confused circle near the drink station like it had lost the will to continue. The table agreed unanimously: worth the drive, worth the wait, worth watching the whole thing fall apart in real time.

Neil, apparently inspired by this same energy, walked in the next day and announced he had solved the shop's staffing problems forever. No more hiring. No more training. No more turnover. He had purchased an AI robot mechanic. From Temu. The same website where the "brand new" wrench set arrives bent and the "genuine leather" seat covers are, allegedly, a mystery fabric science has yet to classify.

Nobody had the heart to tell Neil what was coming. Mostly because everyone was too excited to watch it happen.

Day one, the robot gets plugged in, boots up, and within the hour John has discovered its microphone works. Naturally, the very first thing John teaches it to say, on a loop, is "RAD-iator," purely to torment Chris one more time for old times' sake. Chris listens to it for a solid thirty seconds, completely unbothered, and simply says, "huh. Doesn't get me anymore. Guess I'm cured." John looked like a man who'd just watched his life's work crumble in front of him. An entire personality trait, gone, defeated by a robot with a garbled accent.

Meanwhile, nobody has any idea how, nobody has any idea when, but somehow Chase gets to the robot's programming and reroutes its entire purpose toward stealing Neil's hoagies specifically. Not anyone else's. Just Neil's. Neil has now lost three lunches to a machine he personally paid for.

Day two, Tim decides to test its mechanical skills and asks it to help pull a transmission. The robot grabs hold, pulls with tremendous enthusiasm, does not release at the correct moment, rips the transmission completely free, and the transmission then falls directly on top of the robot, denting its chassis on the spot. First worker's comp claim in company history filed against a Temu product.

Eric, sensing opportunity in the chaos like he always does, reprograms it to help sell tires. From that point forward, no matter what a customer asks it, price, tread life, warranty, doesn't matter, the robot's entire response is: "Eric is single." Customers are baffled. Eric could not be prouder. This is, without question, the single most successful marketing campaign the robot ever ran.

Day three, John and Tim, out of pure muscle memory at this point, ask it to clean the cheetah. It goes. It doesn't even question it, which somehow makes it worse. Later that same day it gets set on fire with starting fluid. Multiple times. We're leaving it there.

Day four, fluid filmed. Also leaving it there.

Somewhere in the middle of all this, someone, and we truly could not tell you who, swaps the little display on its face to a photo of Larry. So for a solid two days the shop's brand-new AI robot mechanic just wanders around with Larry's face on the screen, greeting customers, occasionally saying "RAD-iator," occasionally announcing that Eric is single, all while looking like Larry never actually retired, he just got upgraded into hardware.

Then John and Tim weld its feet together. For anyone keeping score at home, that's the mechanical equivalent of tying someone's shoelaces together, except with significantly more sparks and even less remorse. The robot spent the rest of the afternoon shuffling around the shop in tiny, furious increments, Larry's face on the screen the entire time, still occasionally announcing Eric's relationship status to nobody in particular.

Day five, the final straw. John and Tim have it weld a gas tank on a customer's vehicle. The tank explodes. Everybody's fine, the vehicle's fine, the paperwork on this one is going to be a nightmare, but the robot had officially reached its limit. It disconnected itself from the lift, walked, actually walked, into Neil's office, stood in front of the desk, and quit. On the spot. No notice. No severance negotiation. Just a flat, robotic "I am done with the shenanigans," and then it shut itself off entirely, Larry's face still frozen on the screen, staring at Neil in what can only be described as quiet judgment.

So that's the story of Neil's grand automation experiment. Total lifespan: five days. Total damages: one transmission, one gas tank, most of Neil's lunches, and whatever's left of that robot's dignity. Larry lasted decades with these two and retired on his own terms. This robot didn't make it a week.

We're currently accepting applications for human techs only. Preferably ones that can't be set on fire, welded shut, or talked into quitting by lunchtime.

📞 570-784-1907
📍 3093 Columbia Blvd, Bloomsburg PA

09/15/2026

We buy guns text
5708542130

09/11/2026

**🚨 WE SENT CHRIS TO AUTOZONE FOR A LIGHT BULB. THIS IS WHAT CAME BACK. 🚨**

We need to talk about today, because today had everything: linguistics, international relations, a betrayed girlfriend rule, and a cart that no longer resembles a light bulb run in any universe.

It started at lunch, which, fair warning, was a lot. Tim, John, and Chris were sitting around the table, and it came out that Chris has a very specific trigger, and that trigger is the word "radiator." Say it like "radiate-or," normal, fine, he's a professional. Say it like "RAD-iator," and the man visibly leaves his body for a second.

**John:** "Wait, so it's just the one word?"

**Chris:** *(staring into the middle distance)* "Just that one. Also don't say 'wooder.' I know we're near Philly. I don't care. Don't."

And here's the thing about John, and honestly anyone who's ever worked with him will confirm this under oath: the second he learns a button exists, he cannot, physically CANNOT, stop pressing it. So for the rest of lunch, completely unprompted, at random intervals, just to see the reaction:

**John:** "So anyway I was working on this RAD-iator earlier—"

**Chris:** *(twitch)* "John."

**John:** *(five minutes later, mid-sentence about something unrelated)* "—and that's when the RAD-iator hose—"

**Chris:** "JOHN."

**Tim:** "He's not going to stop."

**Chris:** "I know."

**John:** *(later still, apropos of nothing)* "RAD-iator."

**Chris:** *(head in hands)* "We were talking about your DAY, John."

**John:** "Was it about a RAD-iator? Hard to say."

Then, completely unprompted and possibly as a defense mechanism, Chris just starts speaking. In Elvish. Full sentences, no warning, no context, like he's greeting an old friend who just happens to be invisible and also fictional. Tim froze mid-bite. John, without missing a beat, just goes:

**John:** "...Do you know Gandalf?"

**Chris:** *(not even blinking)* "Personally? No. We run in different circles."

That was somehow the most normal answer he could've given.

Once we recovered, John pivoted to asking Chris about Pidgin, since Chris picked it up living in Hawaii, and the two of them got into a genuinely deep conversation about vowel sounds and sentence structure while Tim just sat there eating his sandwich like he was watching a documentary he didn't sign up for.

That's when Eric wandered over, because Eric cannot resist inserting himself into any conversation involving a skill he does not have, and asked, dead serious, "hey, how do you say 'I'm single' in Pidgin? Asking for professional reasons." Chris told him. Eric wrote it down. We do not know what he plans to do with this information, but we fear for whoever's coming into the shop next.

And speaking of Hawaii, THIS is where it got really interesting, because it turns out Chris actually knows the guy. You know the guy. The one who got so worked up about Eric's tire-selling pitch that he drove all the way from Hawaii to Pennsylvania just to buy tires from him in person, because apparently a phone call wasn't a strong enough tribute. Chris confirmed the man is real, confirmed the story is true, and then added, completely unsolicited, that the guy is also "very good at holding his breath, apparently." Nobody asked for that detail. Nobody knows what to do with that detail. We are choosing not to investigate further and simply letting it join the legend.

Because of all this important cultural, linguistic, and possibly aquatic exchange, Chris only got through about a chapter and a half of his dragon book today, which, for a man who normally treats lunch like a competitive sport, is basically a tragedy in his own eyes. To make up for the distraction, he bought lunch for Tim and John at Tony's Steaks, no complaints there, John got the Italian sub, Tim got the cheesesteak, and it was genuinely a very kind gesture from a man who apparently cannot be trusted alone in an auto parts store.

Which brings us to the photo. We sent Chris to AutoZone after lunch for one (1) light bulb. Chris later informed us, very casually, that his girlfriend has an actual rule that he is not allowed to go to AutoZone by himself, because he cannot be trusted, and we did not understand the severity of that rule until this photo came back. Turbos. An intercooler. Subwoofers. Coilovers. Brake rotors with actual slots in them. Enough motor oil to bathe in. We asked for a light bulb, Chris, we needed ONE light bulb, and you came back looking like you're building a second engine in the parking lot.

We're genuinely not sure if we got a light bulb out of this or not. We're still checking. Also, RAD-iator.

📞 570-784-1907
📍 3093 Columbia Blvd, Bloomsburg PA

09/10/2026

**🍕 LUNCH TABLE TALES: THE DAY WE DISCOVERED CHRIS SPEAKS ELVISH 🍕**

Some days at The New Garage, lunch is just lunch. Today was not one of those days.

Picture it: Tim, John, Neil, and Chris, gathered around the table like it's a council of elders, when Chris casually mentions he polished off two whole chapters of his dragon book today. TWO. The man is on a roll. He pulls out his bookmark, which is a cute little bear, and announces, completely deadpan, "yeah, I'm actually a pretty fast reader."

**Tim:** "How fast are we talking?"

**Chris:** "Fast enough that I also happen to speak fluent Elvish."

Silence at the table. Full stop. Sandwiches paused mid-air.

**John:** "...I'm sorry, what?"

**Chris:** *(shrugging like this is a completely normal thing to reveal at lunch)* "Elvish. From the books. I can also speak Pidgin, from Hawaii."

**Neil:** "So you're telling us you're fluent in a real Hawaiian dialect AND a fake language from a fantasy novel."

**Chris:** "Correct."

Before anyone could recover from that, Chris's phone went off with its usual "DRINK. WATER." alert, in that flat, unsettling robot voice it does. Neil, bless him, physically looked around the room for whoever was talking, dead serious, like a hydration ghost had entered the building. We had to explain, again, that no, nobody was speaking, that's just Chris's phone reminding him to stay hydrated, in the voice of what can only be described as a mildly judgmental appliance.

Lunch ended. Elvish translations were not further discussed. Life at the shop moved on.

**THEN CAME THE FIAT.**

Chris knocked out a battery replacement, clean and quick, no issues. He heads into the office to close it out, and Neil asks him, "did you reprogram the ECM for the new battery?" Chris comes walking back out into the shop with the look of a man who has just been asked a trick question by his professor, finds John, and goes, "I think Neil's messing with me."

So John sat him down and set the record straight: no, Neil wasn't messing with him, that time. Some vehicles genuinely do require a battery relearn process after a battery swap, mostly European makes like VW, BMW, and Audi, where the ECM needs to be told "hey, we've got a new battery, adjust accordingly." Chris still looked like he thought John was in on it too. We grabbed the scanner, checked the Fiat properly, and confirmed this particular one didn't need it. Mystery solved, trust partially restored.

But here's the real takeaway for you at home: if you go to a parts store chain and get a battery slapped in without checking whether your vehicle needs that relearn done, you could be shortening the life of your new battery before you even leave the parking lot. It's a quick check, it matters, and it's exactly the kind of thing we look for every time.

Also, side note, Chris is lactose intolerant, and his girlfriend keeps sending him lasagna, pizza, and mozzarella string cheese for lunch. We're starting to think this is either a test of endurance or a slow, cheesy conspiracy. Either way, the man is brave.

📞 570-784-1907
📍 3093 Columbia Blvd, Bloomsburg PA

09/09/2026

---

**🚨 SHOP UPDATE: WE HIRED A MAN AND ACCIDENTALLY UNCOVERED A CRIMINAL CONSPIRACY 🚨**

Some of you asked why we've been quiet lately. Simple answer: Larry retired (legend, gone, we salute you) and we hired a replacement named Chris. Complicated answer: Chris might be housing a fugitive, or married to four women, or possibly both, we genuinely cannot tell, and at this point we've stopped trying.

Let's set the scene. It's lunch. Chris is sitting there, dragon book open, working diligently through paragraph number one like it owes him money, when his phone goes off. And instead of a normal ringtone, out of his pocket comes, clear as day, a sweet little Disney melody:

*"Do you wannnnt... to help me hide a bodyyyy..."*

The shop went dead silent. Here's what happened next, word for word, no exaggeration (okay, some exaggeration):

**John:** *(slowly turning around)* "...Chris. Chris, buddy. What was that."

**Chris:** *(completely calm, not looking up from his book)* "That's my girlfriend."

**Tim:** "Your girlfriend has a ringtone about hiding a body."

**Chris:** "She has several personalities. That one's the funny one."

**John:** "...Several personalities?"

**Chris:** "She's a great cook though."

**Eric/Phil:** *(from across the shop, mid tire sale, not even looking up)* "See, THIS is why I'm still single. No mystery ringtones. No hidden bodies. Just me, the tire rack, and my own two hands."

**Tim:** "Eric, you've been single since the Clinton administration."

**Eric/Phil:** "By CHOICE, Tim."

Anyway, apparently last night the girlfriend talked in her sleep and casually told Chris to "grab the guns," then informed him he had garlic breath, which, fair, because WE are the ones who introduced him to Tony's Steaks, and once a man has a Tony's cheesesteak, authentic Philly style, best in Bloomsburg, there is no going back and there is no such thing as fresh breath afterward. That's the deal. Nobody warns you about the deal.

Chris took all of this in stride, the way he takes everything in stride, which is honestly the most impressive part of this whole story. He didn't fall for "clean the cheetah." He didn't flinch when John introduced him to starting fluid and a lighter like some kind of shop hazing ritual sanctioned by nobody. He just quietly went back to his book, his lasagna, and his terrifyingly calm home life.

Chase has already claimed Chris as his favorite human, mostly because Chris and his girlfriend are certified dog people and Chase can smell weakness. Sage remains completely unbothered by all of this, as Sage is unbothered by literally everything on this earth.

Welcome to the team, Chris. We don't know what's going on at your house, and we've decided we don't want to know.

📞 570-784-1907
📍 3093 Columbia Blvd, Bloomsburg PA

09/03/2026

We want to buy your vehicles
Junk or non running or crashed
Top dollar paid
5708542130 text only