The Sentimental Dent That Wasn’t (2011)

 



When a car comes in after an accident, there's usually a little extra opportunity tucked into the chaos—what we in the industry call upselling the side damage. Basically, if the car’s already in the shop, masked off, and halfway to looking like a prop in a sci-fi movie, it’s a great time to fix other dings and dents—often at a discount. Less setup, less time, and one trip to the paint booth.

I was working in Poughkeepsie when a woman brought in her Volkswagen Jetta. She had hit a deer—not exactly breaking news in upstate New York. The car had all the classic signs: smashed headlight, crumpled fender, dented door. It’s what happens when 150 pounds of forest muscle and fur meets German engineering at 55 mph.

While writing the estimate, I noticed some older damage on the rocker panel. A sharp crease with a touch of rust, clearly from something hard and unmovable—maybe a rock. I finished her estimate, explained the deductible, rental setup, and walked her through the whole deer-hit damage.

Then I offered the bonus round: “While the car’s here and already going into paint, it’d be a great time to take care of that dent on the rocker. I can give you a good deal since we’re already working on it.”

She smiled and said, “Oh, that one stays.”

Curious, I asked why. What followed was one of my favorite stories in my career.

She told me it happened on her first date with her now-husband. After the movie, the parking lot was covered in snow and she didn’t feel confident driving. He, full of first-date bravado, insisted he could handle it. She suggested calling a friend with a 4WD truck. He insisted again.

So she let him.

They made it most of the way home, right up until the turn into the neighborhood. That’s when he gently slid off the road and right into a rock. Left a mark, but didn’t ruin the night—or the date. In fact, it led to many more.

Being the soft-hearted romantic I am, I grinned. “Aw, that’s sweet. A sentimental dent.”

She looked at me like my dog Titus does when I ask him to do long division.

“No,” she said. “It’s not a sentimental dent. It’s a reminder.”

“A reminder?”

“Yeah. A reminder that every time he ignores what I say because he knows better, I can point to that dent and say, ‘Remember this?’ He usually comes around after that.”

That, my friends, is the power of a well-placed scar—and maybe why some dents don’t need fixing.

Some dents tell a story. Others settle arguments. Either way, not every flaw needs fixing—and sometimes, a little wrinkle in the metal keeps things running smoother at home.
Until next time, keep it straight… unless there’s a good story in the curve.
—Nate

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