Jerome Avenue Auto Shops Feel the Economy’s Pinch
December 15, 2008
Luis Parra, 21, takes a drag off his Newport as the No. 4 train clatters overhead. He sits on a wooden bench outside Elian Auto Glass on Jerome Avenue. The yellow paint has peeled off to reveal worn splinters.
In the shop behind him, a silver Lincoln Town Car sits in the bay, passenger door open. His three fellow employees have removed the panels from the door and are working on the automatic window’s motor. The job will take about 10 minutes. Parra is not needed for this job, so he sits on the bench and smokes.
“I come in a lot,” he says with a shrug. “But…”
But business is bad. From the Cross Bronx Expressway up to Tremont Avenue, for a solid seven blocks, Jerome could be called the Auto Shop District. Muffler repairs, corner rim shops, parking lots, garages large and small. Detailed paint work and tinted windows installed by workers from local neighborhoods and foreign countries. Graffiti murals extolling the virtues of certain shops. Jerome has been like this for as long as most can remember, but the businesses are struggling as economic problems continue to trickle down.
Men like Parra sit, smoke, talk, watch and wait for work to drive up. At 177th Street, a man sits on a folding chair against the green support of the train tracks as cars drive past. He holds a sign advertising window tints. There aren’t many takers. Experts have been saying that consumers are spending less and focusing on what’s most important when they do spend. The businesses along Jerome testify to this.
Elian Auto Glass is a small shop, two bays, four workers. They do tint jobs, repair broken windows and windshields, fix broken motors. The work doesn’t take long. Most jobs are done in about half an hour. Most jobs are inexpensive, about $100. The shop makes money by doing a lot of these small jobs. Except there haven’t been that many.
“The situation is really down,” says employee Randall Martinez, who’s also 21. “We’ve got to try and get the customer in here and give them a good price.”
But he wonders if that’s enough. He sees cars with broken windshields drive by, day after day. The owners can’t afford to have them fixed, or so Martinez guesses.
Martinez’ father owns a garage in the Dominican Republic. That’s where he learned to work on cars, mostly as a mechanic. He’d never worked with glass before getting the job at Elian, but he likes it fine.
“I love cars,” he says, emphasizing the word ‘love.’
Down at C & S Reyna Mufflers, Emmanuel Reyna, 24, is half-watching Spanish-language music videos, half-supervising the changing of a manifold on a Nissan Quest. The minivan is the only vehicle being worked on in the shop. The mechanic working on the manifold is from Brooklyn, the rest of the guys are from the Dominican Republic. Spanish and English are heard, sometimes in the same sentence. Emmanuel has been working in his father’s shop for five years. They moved the business from a smaller location two years ago, but the extra space hasn’t been needed as much lately. Still, Emmanuel is stoic.

“Things go down, things come back up. Just keep going,” he says. He notes that the shop does state inspections, a service that is always needed.
Richard Cisternas is 53. His shop, Quality Auto Body, has been open for 30 years. Cisternas has six employees and doesn’t work on the cars himself anymore, but he says he still spends more time in the shop than the office, and his Bronx accent is thick. Being a veteran is no guarantee of success these days, though.
“I can only fly to Boca [Boca Raton, Florida] three times a week instead of four,” he jokes.
Unlike most of the shops along Jerome, Quality has an office alongside the shop. Unlike the other shops, there’s not a gumball dispenser or pictures of scantily clad women pinned to the walls. The radio plays “When Doves Cry” rather than salsa. The smell of iron and oil are still thick in the air.
“I think every business is in a downturn,” he says, but he doesn’t think the slump will last as long for him as it will for companies selling new products.
“Leasing’s coming to an end,” he says. “People thought, ‘It’s a disposable world. Why fix it, just buy a new one’.”
Now that people won’t be able to get credit for new cars, Cisternas is betting they’ll be more willing to pay when things go wrong.
Like the younger guys who work in the nearby shops, Cisternas finds his occupation worthwhile.
“It’s always nice to do something you enjoy,” he says.
By ROBERT VORIS
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