04/15/2025
The Legend of Metheney’s Auto
They say Metheney’s Auto wasn’t built—it was willed into existence by busted knuckles, cheap beer, and sheer stubbornness. Tim Metheney didn’t have much to his name back then. Just a bent claw hammer, a pile of warped 2x4s someone dumped behind the mill, and a dream bigger than a lifted '84 Chevy on 38s.
The garage went up slow—real slow. Every board was twisted like it’d been cursed. The nails wouldn’t go in straight. The hammer head kept flying off mid-swing like it was trying to escape the madness. But Tim kept swinging. Rain or shine. Hungover or hyped up on gas station coffee and Slim Jims. Folks driving by thought he was losing his mind.
Until the roof went on.
It was held up by duct tape, prayers, and a support beam named “Ol’ Wobbler.” That garage leaned like it wanted to fall over, but somehow never did. And the day it officially opened? The clouds broke, the sun hit just right, and Bandit—Tim’s tiny Yorkie with the soul of a linebacker—lifted his leg and christened the place.
The Rise of Timmy Tuesday
Now, every town's got a party... but Timmy Tuesday ain’t just a party. It’s a full-blown movement.
Started when Tim gave away free oil changes one Tuesday in July. Just him, some lukewarm hot dogs, and a cooler full of Natty Ice. Word got out, and the next year, people brought lawn chairs. The year after that—bounce house. Then bands. Then fireworks.
Now? It’s the Mardi Gras of Pennsylvania.
People come from counties away dressed in grease-stained overalls and fake mustaches. There’s a burnout contest, a wrench toss, and the legendary “Greased Mechanic Relay”—where contestants have to slide under a junk car and come out with a 10mm socket. Only problem? There is no 10mm socket.
Because Bandit took it.
The Hamster Under the Slab
But the strangest thing about Metheney’s Auto? Underneath the cracked cement floor, buried like a treasure, is a hamster named Rev. Legend says he belonged to Tim’s cousin Dale—an ambitious little guy who once chewed through the carb vacuum lines of a ‘78 Nova.
Rev passed during construction. They laid him to rest in a Pringles can, poured the slab over him, and never looked back.
But on cool summer nights, when the shop’s quiet and the moonlight hits just right... folks swear they hear a tiny squeak, and the soft whirr-whirr-whirr of a hamster wheel.
Some say it's the wind. Others say it’s Rev, still tuning engines in the great beyond.