My name is Lewis Dahm. I was born in Asheville and have lived in WNC all my life. I’ve always maintained my own vehicles, which led to helping friends with theirs.

After Helene hit, a lot of shops closed down in the area. I had a lot of friends who were either out of work, or working much less. They still had cars that needed maintenance, and I felt that I was in a position to help my community by fixing things for free. I was lucky enough to still have income from my day job, so I could afford to donate my labor.

I started a gofundme with a goal of $500 to buy parts for a couple of projects. A lot of people shared it, and I ended up getting $4000. That sum goes a long way on Rock Auto.

So, with more resources at my disposal, I was able to widen my net. I fixed a lot of people’s cars and learned a huge amount over the course of a couple months. I felt a sense of purpose that was crucial to my mental health in the weeks after the storm. I was doing something useful. There are, after all, few things more important to life in America than a working car.

So after the Gofundme ran out and things in town started returning to normal, I decided to keep working as a mobile mechanic on the side. This time, I worked for pay.

It didn’t feel the same. I enjoyed the problem solving and the variety, but I got overwhelmed. Maybe it was delayed burnout from the storm, but ultimately I felt like I was spread too thin. I struggled to find ways to make a decent wage while giving people a good value. I also learned that many jobs are too important to be done in a gravel driveway.

However, I had gotten very good at that most fundamental of jobs, the humble oil change. I did so many oil changes after Helene, and in my time as a free agent, I had encountered many atrocities committed by the big name oil change places. The Valvolines, the Take 5’s, the whatevers.

I’ve seen things you people wouldn’t believe. I’ve seen oil filters inexplicably adhered to engine blocks with RTV. I found drain plugs over torqued and completely rounded off. In one shocking case, I found a fill cap missing altogether.

I thought: My god, what kind of smooth-brained creatures are running these places? Just who are these abject morons changing the oil in my friends’ cars?

Suddenly, I had found that sense of purpose again. It was a simpler purpose—mundane, even—but it came with a good wage and manageable overhead. Synthetic oil and quality filters are, after all, not really that expensive. I realized that I could provide people in my community with better materials and service than a lot of the big chains. I could also do it without making them wait awkwardly in their cars as I drain their fluids. I thought, my god, I can change people’s oil while they’re at work!

So I no longer feel like a superhero swapping control arms in the yard after surviving on beef jerky and not showering for two weeks. I am not working under the apocalyptic urgency of a thousand year weather event. I do, however, feel an urgent need to not be an idiot, and to save people in my community from idiots.

I decided to refocus on the fundamentals, to do one thing consistently, to perfect the art of the most important job you can do on an automobile. I decided to start a mobile oil change service.