As part of my life-long interest in figuring out why people do what they do, I had an opportunity to visit Mark Schroeder at Precision Import Products near Dallas, Texas. Besides general curiosity about the man, I couldn't help but wonder how he came about his seemingly endless knowledge of our cars, and why he is always so generous in offering his help.

   I knew about the Dallas trip several months ago. It was this year's location for a convention of music school administrators, and I had to chair an eight-hour meeting. The schedule was for me to fly out on Friday afternoon, run the meeting on Saturday afternoon and Sunday morning, and fly back to Baltimore Sunday afternoon. Not much spare time.

   A few weeks before the trip, I contacted Mark Schroeder of Precision Import Products to see if we could get together and maybe have dinner. As I was to find out, Mark's schedule is rather intense, but a few days before the trip he was able to confirm that some time had opened up. He offered to pick me up at the airport, which was certainly beyond the call of duty.

   Meeting someone you have never seen before at Dallas/Fort Worth airport is a strange experience. I had given Mark my general physical description, but may have overstated my attributes when I said I was a combination of a young Robert Goulet and Tom Sellick--only without the hair, the good looks, the build, or the youth. Somebody with a clip board walked by at one point, but he looked way too purposeful to be a car nut.

   It wasn't that I had nothing to do. Half of the young women in Texas look like they are ready to try out as Dallas Cowboy cheerleaders, so I settled in to enjoying the scenery. Before long, I was the only one in the baggage area, and the guy with the clip board came strolling back in the other direction.

   "Dave Lane?" he asked. Well, I knew the answer to that one.

   It was Mark. We introduced ourselves, and headed out toward the car. I soon learned that Mark has what you might call a three-channel brain. That is, he always seems to have at least three lines of thought going on at one time, and he can flip between them in the blink of an eye. This works well for him when he is doing three things at once at the shop. It can produce unpredictable results when he is trying to navigate not-too-familiar roads and answer questions from a curious passenger.

   "Oops. Looks like they changed that exit. I think we ought to be going in the other direction."

   It was also immediately evident that Mark loves to tinker. Mark's car is the epitome of that old adage about the "shoemaker's shoes." It has been the subject of a lot of experiments, but not much spit and polish. Basically, it is a blue early eighties GSL, with badly faded, original paint. The first hint that the car is not exactly stock came when Mark reached into his pocket, released the hatch (and unlocked the doors) with a remote control--not an option on those cars. He has Panasport wheels, a boost gauge (but no turbo at the moment) an air/fuel gauge and heaven knows what else hidden in the dark. The engine is a street port 12A that Mark threw together from old parts, including apex seals he had recycled, a Mikuni carb setup, and an exhaust that featured a cheap muffler which had long since divested itself of anything that might actually reduce the volume of the exhaust. Mark said he tossed the engine together to last for a few months until he had more time. I suspect that "more time" may eventually equal a turbo/nitrus combination for it--JATO bottles optional.

   This car has character. It is also pretty quick--only Mark, like many of us, has some kind of genetic predisposition to ignore speed limit signs, and he has to constantly fight himself to hold it down. Mark is like that in a lot of respects. For the record, he drove quite conservatively, except for that one time when I learned about the car being pretty quick.

   Mark's dad is an electrical engineer, and Mark was originally headed in that direction. By the time he was in high school he was a bicycle nut, riding about 500 miles a week. When a friend bought an RX-3 most of his energy jumped from bicycles to cars,. The story is that Mark and his friend started messing with the thing in his friend's garage.

   Eventually, they started working on other people's cars, and that led to a growing business. Mark was the service manager, so to speak. At the age of 22 he was grossing more money than me (I am 51, and look like a young Robert...etc.).

   Anyone involved in entrepreneurial business will tell you that there is a point during the growth process when you can't do everything yourself. Mark took great pride when he told me how he used to diagnose each customer's car, and drive it before delivery. He assigned some of the work to other mechanics and was responsible for their training. However, I got the notion that Mark would have preferred to do more of the "hands on" work himself. He even enjoyed diagnosing those irritating electrical glitches.

   We talked a little about why good RX-7 service is so hard to find at a dealer. He said that a lot of his time is spent undoing the mistakes of others--which explains why so many of his postings to the net say something like: "...look for pinched wire...often happens when clutch is replaced." He stated what should have been obvious to me--that really good mechanics often do not stay at the dealer very long, so even if a dealer invests time and money in training a promising rotary mechanic, he may eventually leave to start his own shop, or maybe he will discover he can make more money fixing Buicks.

   It seems that most of the independent rotary gurus got their start at the dealers. I was thinking about the number of 3rd gens out there (about 13,000--maybe 10,000 that aren't insurance company statistics) and wondering how many a typical dealer sold, and how much money and time a dealer would be willing to invest in training and equipping mechanics to deal with such a specialized car. Mark pointed out that many of the people who knew their way around the early cars are also gone from the dealers. In other words, your '79 may be a bigger mystery to the dealer than a '93.

   The realities of delegating work in a growing business are not always pleasant -- especially for a hands-on guy with a three-track mind. Every time Mark finds the answer to a question, it brings up four more questions, and Mark's near insatiable curiosity mandates that he research the answers. He just wants to know, that's all. And if there is some experimenting indicated, he wants to have time to do it. (By the way, those were the years when Corky Bell was developing his CarTech turbo kits. At that time, CarTech was located in Dallas, so it was inevitable that Mark, through his customers, would be in the thick of it--which explains his depth of experience in modifying rotaries.)

   Anyway, the business got too big, and Mark was unable to put his personal touch on every car. In addition, the human equation was not working out all that well. (I was once involved with a small business in which the "bean counter" had a little too much control. I wouldn't be surprised if something similar happened here.) Mark's ability to better his position in the company was stalemated. He no longer had time to experiment. In other words, most of what he enjoyed in life was just not there any more. It was time to find a happier situation.

   Mark signed on with a smaller shop, taking a 60% salary cut, but with the understanding that his earnings would be tied to the growth of the business. It didn't work out that way.

   It was time for Mark to head out on his own. He started Precision Import Products with about a hundred bucks, and a feeling that he could make it work. He had a faithful following of RX-7 customers and an even larger following of car-nuts like you and me who rely on him to solve problems. He also had a mission statement: "to provide theparts & service to keep the Rx-7 on the road as long as possible."

   The business has been in its present location for about a year. We stopped by there on the way to dinner.

   It was dark when we arrived, and the first things I noticed were two beautiful (gasp!) Z cars--ITE and ITS racers--in the parking lot. Yes, Mark also specializes in Z cars. He knows a lot about them, and it gives him a second specialty for the business. We stepped inside.

   Every business is essentially a "tool box" reflecting the services provided--and that is exactly what Precision Import Products is about. You might wonder how Mark has time to answer all our email and still run a business. The answer is that his normal working hours are 5 A.M. to 9 P.M. Last week he pulled two all-nighters. I bet it was to get the race cars ready. About half of the available "display space" is taken up with computers, desks and files. It has the look of a place where several things are going on at once, and I suspect that is exactly the case. Mark proudly pointed out that all the furnishings and computer gear were purchased with earnings from the business.

   Even though it was well after eight in the evening, several calls came in. Mark locked the front door, saying that if he didn't, people would probably stop in to chat. I doubt that Mark discourages this (there is a sofa out front), and I suspect that Precision Import Products is something of a gathering place for RX-7 and Z car people.

   It seems to me that Mark has an unusual philosophy about doing business. His primary product is his knowledge of how to solve problems. As a service manager, he has seen it all. But there is more to it than that. Mark is sometimes frustrated because he knows that getting a rotary to sing can be as much of an art as a science. He relies on both, but the "art" part is sometimes difficult to communicate. He tends to focus more on helping people than on "selling" things, and the products he sells are the ones he recommends as good values.

   An example of this "service" orientation came out the other day when we were discussing electronic ignitions. He told me what he recommended, and said he carried them, but also told me that so-and-so could sell them for less than he could, and recommended that I go there. Mark knows that if he looks out for his customer's best interests, it is good for the long term growth of the business -- whether a given sale is made or not.

   In a few of his posts over the past months, Mark has quipped that he doesn't much work on cars any more. That is sort of true. Precision Import Products does not advertise itself as a place to bring your car for service. But Mark still works on the cars of his friends and former customers in a small, but well organized garage in back of the store-front. If he has time, he will even take on a custom project like a race car or:

   "Hey, Mark, whatdaya think about opening up the exhaust on my Ferrari?"

   Mark is considering it. He carries Borla.

   So, I guess Mr. Schroeder has come back to his roots. He balances his time between being a diagnostician for all of us, selling products through the mail, and just plain messing with cars--just the thing for someone with a three track mind.

   By the way, we had dinner at a place called the Routh Street Brewery. I highly recommend it. And Mark did entertain one non-automotive question from yours truly. I asked him what happens to all those tall blondes who look like they are Cowboy Cheerleader material? There are no older versions to be seen anywhere. Where did they all go? Mark took a sip of beer and considered that for a moment.

   "I've noticed that myself." He said. Then shook his head. I guess there are some questions even an RX-7 guru has to ponder.