06x16 - Would You Buy a Used Car from This Handyman?

[bunniefuu]

Hel... Hello, Stratford Inn.

Um, hello, Mrs. Cook.

Yeah, we, uh... we sort of
expected you an hour ago.

Well, where... where...
Where are you now?

Lost, huh?

You, uh... You see any
distinguishing signs or...

Or landmarks?

Uh-huh.

Yeah, I'm a... I'm afraid
a... A lot of stop signs

fit that description, Mrs. Cook.

No, I'm... I'm afraid I...
I don't know what color,

uh, Vermont would
be on your road map.

Well, I... I suppose
if I absolutely had to,

I'd... I'd guess, uh, uh, green.

Good... Good-bye, Mrs. Cook.

Well, we're on our way
out to build a snow Steph.

We're gonna pack
some white powder

into five feet of cuteness.

A monument to my muffin, in ice.

Do you wanna join us?

I'll let you put the
dimples in her knees.

Uh, darn, and my
mittens are all the way

in the other room.

So do you have
everything, Michael?

You bet. I even have a button
for your cute button nose.

Kinda big, Michael.

How's this?

Perfect.

I may catch cold,
but it's worth it.

I replaced that light
in the refrigerator

for you, Joanna.

Thanks, George.

You're looking at my
10,000th burnt-out bulb.

And this baby goes
right in the scrapbook.

You put light bulbs...
in your scrapbook?

Only those with strong
sentimental value.

You should see my scrapbook.

It tells the George Utley
story from the very beginning.

The first nail I ever
hammered solo,

the metric wrench
set I bought when I fell

for the conversion
talk of the '70s,

even my junior carpenter
tool belt with training ball peen.

Sounds like it'd be
hard to put down.

Sounds like it'd
be hard to pick up.

Well, I've gotta go
dust off the old book.

I expect I've got quite a
trip down memory lane

in front of me.

Joanna,

our maid is outside building
a snow idol to herself,

and our handyman is
on his way to his room

to paste a light
bulb in a scrapbook.

Wh... when did we lose
control of the hired help?

Morning, George.

Morning.

George, are... are you okay?

I've been up all night looking
over my George Utley scrapbook.

And you know, every single
page was handyman stuff.

Are you sure you have
the right scrapbook?

There wasn't a single
photograph of me in there

without a hammer.

Well, weren't there
any baby pictures?

Sure. Plenty.

Well, George, you always loved
the idea of being a handyman.

That's why you
became one, right?

Oh, I used to think so.

But maybe it was because
my father was a handyman.

And my father's father
was a handyman.

- And my father's father's father...
- All... all right, George.

We're... we're picking
up on the pattern.

George, if... if you don't
wanna be a handyman,

wh... what do you wanna be?

Nothing I can think of.

Oh, except when I was a
kid, I had a few ambitions.

Well, it's never too late
to follow your dreams.

Don't worry.

Last night I came
to grips with the fact

that I'll always be
just a handyman.

Well, I think before I
start my Day 13,612

of my handyman grind,

I'll just take a
little walk outside

and see if I can't shake
those old caretaker's blues.

George...

George, I mean, do you
think a... A walk is the answer?

I mean,

you know, look how a stroll
down memory lane screwed you up.

Stratford Inn.

Um, and Mrs. Cook!

Yeah, we were
beginning to... To worry.

Well, I... I... I'm sorry, but
I... I told you green was...

Was just a guess.

I did so.

Well, where...
where are you now?

No... no idea, huh?

What... what... what's that
I hear in the background?

Uh-huh. It sounds like you,
uh... You got an ocean there,

uh, Mrs. Cook.

All right, what... what you
do, get back in your car

and... and drive,

keeping the ocean on your right.

You... you're welcome, Mrs.
Cook. And, uh... and good luck.

Stephanie!

Stephanie, I'm here!

What is it, Michael?

Oh, Michael. What
are we going to do?

What... what's going on?

I just heard it on
the radio. It's horrible!

A warming trend.

Okay, everyone
into the basement.

I'll get some lanterns
and some bottled water.

Don't you realize
what this means?

Everyone knows that's
me out there and...

even after the sun's
deforming rays hit it,

they're still gonna
think it's me.

Of all the times
for spring to hit.

Right on the heels of winter.

Well, you guys knew
when you built this

that someday it would melt.

Uh, no, we didn't.

We don't think that
far into the future.

Yeah.

I mean, who would have a baby

if they thought about what
it was going to look like

when it was 90?

Michael, what are we gonna do?

I don't know.

Well, think.

d*ck?

I don't know either.

I... I guess all you
can do is sit back and...

And watch helplessly as
your... Your snow Steph

slowly melts into a...
A muddy slush Steph.

You're sick!

d*ck, that wasn't very nice.

I know. And as soon as I
can keep a straight face, I'll...

I'll apologize.

Hi, guys.

George, where have you been?

Well, my cheering
up stroll through town

kind of turned into
an all-day outing.

Looks like it worked.

You're, uh, downright peppy.

Yeah! I feel great!

Terrific.

I got a new job!

What... what do you
mean you got a new job?

Well, I was about
a mile into my walk

when I passed
Cypret's Auto Barn.

They had a "Salesman
Wanted" sign up.

The job I've always dreamed of!

But, George, you
never said anything

about wanting to be
a used car salesman.

That's because I
thought d*ck would laugh

at my illusions of grandeur.

Wait a minute.

If I leave my job here,

it'll be the first
time The Stratford

has been without
an Utley handyman.

I'm sure we'll stumble through.

But who will handyman?

I'll handyman.

I guess you will
stumble through.

Well, now I suppose
the first thing I've gotta do

is find a place to live.

Oh, what do you mean, George?

Of course you'll live
right here in your room.

But that... that's for
the resident handyman.

No, that's for the
resident Utley.

Oh, thanks.

But I won't feel right

unless you let me pay
for my room and board.

George, don't be ridiculous.

I insist, d*ck. I
do have my pride.

All right. How about, uh,

25 dollars a month?

Boy, you sure know how

to exploit a guy's
sentimental attachments.

Michael! Any news
on the snow Steph?

All N.G., living
breathing Steph.

And the forecast says:
continued warmer.

Michael, you're
really letting me down

as a boyfriend,

not being able to control
the weather and all.

Sorry, Steph.

I know! How about we start
calling it a snow Joanna?

That way it'll just be
something on the lawn.

Michael, the melting of snow
is a natural phenomenon,

and in its own way
can be very beautiful.

I'm sorry. I wonder if
you could settle a bet.

That snow sculpture outside,

is that supposed to be a
gargoyle or a lawn jockey?

It's supposed to be her.

Oh, yeah.

Michael, I don't
care what it takes!

Fix me! Fix me!

You know, I just can't
believe that George

is gonna go off to work.

I mean, I'm really gonna miss
having him around all the time.

Honey, it's just a... a
phase he's going through.

I predict his... his hammer
hand will be itching before lunch.

George!

Don't you look nice.

It's so neat to have
to dress up for work

the same way you
would for a big to-do.

And look, you guys
realize this'll be the first time

I've had to pack
a lunch for work?

It's exhilarating and
scary all at the same time.

And I've been boning up
on my Blue Book values.

Go ahead.

Give me a model and year,
and I'll tell you the price.

Um, '84 Mustang convertible.

That's an easy one.

Six... or eight... cylinder?

Oh, let's see...

I've already opened
to the six-cylinder page,

but I don't want you
to pull any punches

just because it's my first day.

Okay, then. Eight.

GT or LX interior?

George, I... I'm really not
that interested in a Mustang.

You're not?

Then, why'd you put
me through all this for?

Boy, I hope all my
customers aren't like you, d*ck.

Wow. Even the
lulls are exciting.

Welcome to The Auto Barn.

I'm looking for a car,
and my friend said

I should be sure
to talk to the man

who sold her a car yesterday:

- Honest George.
- I'm Honest George.

Your nametag says Bill Dryden.

Okay, I lied. I'm Honest Bill.

Wh... When I sold your
friend that car yesterday,

I just told her my name
was Honest George.

Hi, I'm George Utley.

- Oh!
- You must be Mrs. Leeds' friend.

Hello, George.

Sherry said you'd tell me
the truth about your cars.

I'd be glad to.

Welcome to the Auto Barn.

I'm, uh... I'm
looking for George.

I'm George.

No... no, you're not.

I know what he looks like.

I was in an accident,
and I had plastic surgery.

I... I'm not here
to buy anything.

I'll get him right away.

George to the showroom.

Hey. You smudge
it, you bought it.

Oh, uh, George, I hope I didn't
pull you away from a customer.

Oh, it's okay, d*ck.

She wanted a station wagon,

but the only one we've got
has a bad exhaust system,

so you get dizzy when you drive.

When I pointed that out
to her, she lost interest.

Did you, uh, show
her the VW van?

No. The accelerator sticks.

Hey, lady! Wait!

And... and if your friend
smudges the Plymouth, it's my sale.

d*ck, uh, what are
you doing here?

It's not already the
first of the month, is it?

George, I'm... I'm not
here to collect the rent.

I happened to be next
door, picking up a new fuse,

and I... I thought I'd drop in.

New fuse? What's wrong?

No-nothing.

Michael and Stephanie
overloaded the inn circuits by,

uh, trying to plug in a...
A dozen Mr. Sno... Cones

in the... the outdoor outlet.

Oh. Did you get to
use the new fuse tester?

You're, uh... you're starting
to miss the handyman life,

aren't you, George?

Are you kidding?

Look around.

I mean, is this
place great or what?

It's like a cross between
Disneyland and Disneyworld.

It's a kind of hard
combination to picture.

Look, d*ck.

Here it is:

the time clock.

Wow. Up-up close and everything.

Hey, George. I sold the van.

She wanted it?

Not really. But she smudged it.

You know, I'm not
sure Bill should be in

the used car business.

Some of the things he
does border on the dishonest.

Well, I better go
help her out of this fix.

And also, I am on the clock.

Yeah, I'd... I'd better go too.

I don't wanna smudge my
way into the poor house.

Uh, if you really
wanna see something,

come back in three hours.

What... what happens then?

I punch out.

Well, we have a
working porch light again.

And I have page one of
d*ck Loudon's scrapbook.

Honey, before you re...
replace the porch light,

could you take a look
at the fireplace flue?

Sure. What's...
What's wrong with it?

I don't know, but
this just fell out.

Which I'm pretty sure is wrong.

Yeah, I'll... I'll
get right on it.

Hello, Stratford Inn.

Oh, hi, Mrs. Cook.

Where... where are you now?

Well, can, uh... can
you find someone to...

To ask directions?

E... everyone's speaking French?

Yeah, I... I think you
overshot us, Mrs. Cook.

M... uh, my guess is Canada.

Yeah, uh, were
there guys in uniform

who... who stopped you and...
And went through your luggage?

Yeah, see, that...
That's the border.

You know, Mrs. Cook,

maybe you ought to just,
uh, ask for a room there.

Au revoir, Mrs. Cook.

- Cross off Mrs. Cook.
- Mm... hm.

Come on, Steph, just take...
Just take one more look for me.

Michael, I already
looked out this morning,

and it was nothing but
an ugly five-foot lump.

Well, take one more look.

You... you may be
pleasantly surprised.

Michael, she's gone!

You're right, Steph!

What happened to her?

I think the only explanation
is that snow Steph

pulled a Frosty on us,

came to life, and danced
off to the North Pole.

Do you really think so?

It's the only theory
science will support.

Michael,

is that my cute
little button nose

embedded in your grillwork?

Well, as I say,
either she came to life

or I accidentally mowed her down

with a Turbo Z.

Hi, George. How was work?

Great.

I just came here
to throw something

into my brown bag for tonight.

You're working tonight?

You bet. We're having a
midnight Pacer-mania sale.

Balloons, buttons,
and we'll stay open

until we finally sell
that stupid Pacer.

Sounds exciting.

Yeah. By the way,
the porch light's out.

Yeah, I know.

As soon as I
finish fixing the flue,

I'm gonna get out and get...

You're kidding. The flue broke?

Huh, I've been waiting 47
years for that thing to give in.

Figures. You wash
your car, it rains.

You change careers,
the flue breaks.

George, you... you wouldn't,
by any chance, want to...

Want to help me with the flue?

Uh, no, d*ck, I've
hung up the overalls.

I figured the best way
to give up handymanhood

would be cold turkey.

Well, it sure beats checking
into one of those centers.

Hi.

Thought I heard a
creaking noise out here.

Probably this swing.

Do, uh, you want...
Want some company?

Well, I guess.

Damn, I've already replaced
that light bulb twice tonight.

Probably using a regular bulb.

You should use
special ones in winter.

Ah.

You know, I hardly
ever sit in this swing.

It's nice.

Noisy, but... but nice.

Thanks. Dad and me put this
up when I was eight years old.

We used to sit in it at night,

staring out over the
lawn, talking about stuff.

Things sure have changed.

Well, it was 40 years ago.

No, I mean since this morning.
The snow Stephanie's gone.

Mi... uh, Michael ran over it.

Oh. I feel pretty silly,

moping about my
own petty problems.

Well, I guess since
I'm the handyman,

I'm gonna have to oil
that thing in the morning.

I wish you wouldn't, d*ck.

Why... why not, George?

Well, I know this is
gonna sound crazy,

but the creaking was starting
to sound a little like my father

talking to me on
the swing again.

What... what was he saying?

He was saying you can't
fight generations of breeding,

that I should go back to
being the Stratford handyman.

George, you should probably
listen to your heart on this,

not... not some
squeaking porch swing.

I think that is my heart, d*ck.

The swing was...

just saying it out loud.

You know, d*ck,

all my life, I thought
being a used car salesman

would be just about

the greatest thing in the world.

Time clock,

those little plastic flags
snapping in the wind,

painting big white
numbers on windshields.

But after about a week,

all that glamour fades
into a glitzy routine.

Well, I have to
tell you, George,

from the outside looking
in, you'd never guess.

I thought I'd live out
every man's fantasy.

Selling used cars is
not really that much fun.

And then tonight I
couldn't concentrate,

thinking about
that fireplace flue.

How would I fix it?

Would I just weld on
a new faceplate or...

Or replace the whole mechanism?

You, uh...

you... you wouldn't have...
You wouldn't have just... just

jammed it back into place?

Are you kidding?

George, you know
I... I... I would've let...

Let you help me fix the flue.

Oh, it's not just that, d*ck. I
miss setting my own hours.

I miss the feel of
a plaid flannel shirt

under fully-stocked overalls.

And I miss the feel
of being necessary.

At the car lot,
there's me and Bill.

I'm just a number there.

But here at the
Stratford, without me,

the front porch would
always be dark and...

The damper would
be slip-shoddily

jammed into place.

George, you know,
we... We really miss you,

but I... I thought you
wanted to do something else

besides, you know,
handyman stuff.

I've done it, d*ck.

And after tomorrow,

there's gonna be a
nametag, a time card,

and a Midnight
Pacer-mania button

in my scrapbook to prove it.

I quit, d*ck.

You... you're sure
about this, George?

You know it's not...

It's not too late to go back.

It's still not too late, George.

And don't worry, d*ck.

Before I go to bed tonight

I'll put a new bulb
in the porch light.

And... and would you,

you know, give the...
The flue the once-over?

I was going to, d*ck.

You know, it's, uh...

It... it's good to have
an Utley back at the...

Back at the Stratford again.

Ten thousand and one.

Meow.