My Automotive Journey
“All I wanted was a chance to learn—and someone willing to let me.”
I grew up here in Colorado Springs after my parents moved here from North Dakota in 1989. I graduated from Coronado High School after spending my freshman year at Wasson. In high school, the majority of my friends were in the auto shop class—but I wasn’t. So when we weren’t in school, I spent most of my time involving myself with their grease monkey shenanigans. I met a man named Ed, an amazing man, who let me tinker in his shop a little bit and always accepted my presence. I spent the whole summer between Junior and Senior year with him at Bandimere. I didn’t learn much, but I got some awesome experiences.
I remember that The Fast and the Furious was pretty popular around that time. Watching it, listening to what they were rattling off about their engine mods, I had no idea what they were talking about. Now, I watch it and giggle at it. Hollywood (eye roll). But all I wanted to do was learn, but no one really wanted to teach me. I wanted to know what that part was called, how it worked, and what it did. I wanted to get dirty—I wanted to understand and do what they were doing.
Right out of high school, I met a guy named Davey through a guy named Duane, who knew Ed. You know what Davey did? He raced the Pikes Peak Hill Climb. That year, he traded his sponsorship with Chevy for one with Ford and was building a 2009 Mustang for that year’s climb.
You know what I had? My first car… my 2007 “Baby Blu” Mustang—and yes, I still have her to this day.
I was asked to “come to the shop once in a while so he could make sure he was putting his together correctly.” That’s how I finally got my foot in the door.
I don’t think he actually needed me—but I’m glad someone saw that I just needed a chance.
Davey handed me a starter—in pieces—and said, “Put this back together.” So I did. It took me a good little while, but I finally got it back together. Then he handed me the bolts, showed me where they went, and had me install them on his Mustang. He cranked it, and that baby fired right up.
I can still feel the heat in my face when I think about how accomplished I felt—how satisfied I was that I learned something and actually got to put my hands on it.
That was the day I decided what I was going to college for… automotive.
A couple of months later, one of my classmates offered me a job at the Jiffy Lube on Fillmore and Nevada. I was working at K-Mart across the street, so it wasn’t much of a change in location—but it was a whole $1.02 raise, haha. So I put in my notice and started my first job in the automotive industry.
It became obvious very quickly at Jiffy Lube that if I were going to commit to this career, I’d have to do it with thick skin and a will to prove everyone wrong.
“Can you even drive my truck? It’s a stick.”
“Do you even know how to get my lug nuts off?”
“Shouldn’t you be washing my windows, not draining my oil?”
I worked my way up to assistant manager quickly and then became the person who got called when another store was short-staffed.
I was working at the location off Powers and Stetson Hills when I answered the phone one day, and a man was offering me a job as a service advisor for Aspen Auto Clinic. Now, I had no idea what a service advisor even was. But I didn’t care.
Was someone offering to double my pay and teach me something new in the auto industry? Yup. Let’s go.
I went behind the dumpster and cried after I hung up. I was absolutely miserable there—mostly because I was getting some very unwanted and inappropriate attention from one of my bosses. It was being addressed by management, but that didn’t make me any less miserable.
So, on to Aspen I went.
This is where everything changed for me.
Would you believe that my dumb ass was going to school to be a technician and had no idea there were entire shops full of technicians, service advisors, and a whole repair industry? Nope… I didn’t. I was wingin’ it the whole way.
I was happy. I was paying my bills. I was living my best life at 18.
Turns out… There are places for technicians to work outside of garages, haha.
I finally got to meet the man who secret-shopped me and offered me the job—Jason. One of my favorite people in the world. Amazing coach, incredibly patient, well-mannered, and genuinely one of the most caring people I’ve ever met.
If you ask me who my favorite person in the world is… I’ll tell you it’s him.
He taught me everything I know about being a service advisor.
And not just the job, but how to actually take care of people.
Aspen didn’t just give me a position—they gave me a voice. They gave me confidence. They gave me respect in an industry where I had to fight for it everywhere else.
They invested in me. They sent me to training—constantly. They pushed me to grow. They promoted me. They gave me opportunities I didn’t even know existed. And they expected more out of me, which is exactly what I needed.
That’s where I learned how to communicate with people, how to explain things in a way that actually made sense, and how to truly advise instead of sell. Jason would call me a salesman, and I’d playfully—but dead serious—snap back, “No, I’m not. Sales is just part of what I do.”
That’s where I learned how to build trust. How to stand behind what I was saying. How to do things the right way—even when it wasn’t the easiest or fastest way.
Sure, I picked up a lot on my own, too—but Aspen gave me my foundation. They took someone who was just eager and curious and turned me into someone who actually knew what they were doing.
Fast forward about 6 years—I’m working at one of Aspen’s stores in Denver, and I meet my soon-to-be (then) ex-husband (now).
Commuting was starting to take a toll on me, so I decided to sell my house and move to Denver… and then get married.
Roll your eyes. I know.
After we got married, we set a goal to open our own shop within 2 years. Give me a goal, and I’ll make it happen. I spent the next year personally researching and writing my business plan—by myself.
It ended up being about 200 pages. Yeah… I know. Overkill.
But those 200 pages were enough for the bank to see that I knew what I was doing—and thanks to the education and experience Aspen gave me, I knew how to run a business too (on paper, anyway, haha).
They gave me a $1.5 million loan with $60k down.
I knew that if it wasn’t for my future, God wouldn’t allow it to be easy—and if it were, He’d guide me right through it. And He did.
Cue: Genuine Auto Repair.
Genuine was my ex’s idea—the name, anyway—because as a technician, he wanted to use genuine parts, not aftermarket. But I took it to a whole new level.
Genuine Auto Repair.
Genuine parts. Genuine service. Genuine people.
You didn’t come to Genuine just to get your car fixed—you came to Genuine for me.
You knew you had nothing to worry about going in, and nothing to worry about going out. You knew I was going to make sure you understood what happened, why, and how.
You were going to get 3–5 estimates for the same repair, from bare minimum “get it back on the road,” to better options for the vehicle and still okay for your budget, to the best option for the car.
And I was going to explain which parts we really shouldn’t use aftermarket—and which ones we could probably save a little money on.
Now, it took 6 months to open those doors—and it was budgeted for 3.
I was terrified.
We had about $40k left after construction—literally one month of operating money—, and I didn’t know if cars would even come in by the time we opened.
But you know what?
God is good.
We had a full parking lot—people dropping off keys and cars before we even had lifts bolted to the ground.
“Oh, you won’t be ready for 3 more weeks? Okay, call me when you get a look at it.”
What??!?!
We officially opened those doors on November 11th, 2018.
We said two years.
I made it happen in 1 year and 7 months.
And then—surprise.
My first beautiful little girl was born that next November, almost to the day. I worked from home for 5 business days—remoting into my POS and answering phones from the kitchen table with a newborn next to me—and was back at the shop the next week.
Then again, 2 years later, with my second daughter. You know the coolest thing about that place?
Aside from my ability to take care of my people, however, I thought it was best… The community. The hand-me-downs, the snuggles, the support.
“Oh, I’m not busy Tuesday—I’ll come help with the kids so you can get some work done.” “I brought you lunch because I know you won’t eat otherwise.”
There are a handful of my people who held every single one of my babies when they were about a week old. I have a picture for each one.
Don—with babies 1, 2, 3, and 4. All in my lobby. All were about a week old. Man… I miss that a bit.
When my second daughter was about a year old, I made the very hard decision that my husband would become my ex-husband.
I kept the shop. He got the house.
I wish I could say I was heartbroken—but the truth is, I wasn’t. The marriage had already taken its toll, and by the time I left, I had been ready for a long time.
The only thing that breaks my heart is putting my kids into a split family. That was never the plan. But I knew long-term staying wasn’t what was best for them.
I hired new technicians. They sucked. Hired more. They sucked too. Did that for about 2 years.
None of them would get on board with slowing down, caring about the customer, or doing things the right way. It was all about “how fast can I get this done and how many corners can I cut?”
Nope. That’s not how we do things here.
I paid them a salary—for crying out loud. Not commission. Why were they still trying to rush through and do a crap job with guaranteed pay?
By the time I decided to close the shop, I had two more beautiful babies with a pretty awesome guy named John, and I took his middle name as my last.
After baby #4, it was time to let the shop go.
I couldn’t manage it anymore. I had 4 kids at the shop every day. I wasn’t taking care of my people the way I should have been. I wasn’t taking care of the business. Most importantly, I wasn’t taking care of my babies. Everything was pulling me in too many directions, and nothing got enough of me.
Paperwork was falling behind. I had pack-n-plays and a bassinet in the lobby. The kids would go to sleep there, get loaded up around midnight, transferred to their beds, and then we’d do it all over again the next day.
It wasn’t fair to them.
And it was killing us.
Letting go wasn’t easy.
When I got divorced, I felt this obligation to my people.
If I lost Genuine, who would take care of them? Who would help them as I do? Who would tell them the truth, handle their warranties properly, get them good parts, and actually look out for them?
And then one day, I woke up with a peace in my heart that could have only come from God:
“Heather, no one is going to die without Genuine. They’ll be okay. You need to focus on your babies.”
And just like that… I was ready.
I closed the shop on March 15th, 2025.
I moved home to Colorado Springs.
And I haven’t looked back.
Now, I’m here—using everything I’ve learned to help people make better decisions for themselves and their families… just in a different part of the same industry.
If you made it this far, thank you for taking the time to get to know me.
