I've driven past Furby's on North Cliff more times than I can count — that stretch between 12th and 10th where the avenue dips and the old commercial buildings sit back from the road. It's the kind of shop that looks like it's been there since before anyone worried about branding, which in this case means exactly what you want: people who actually fix cars instead of selling you on fixes.
The name alone tells you something. Furby's. Not "Cliff Avenue Auto Center" or "Premier Vehicle Solutions." Just Furby's — probably someone's last name, maybe a nickname, definitely not focus-grouped. I stopped in last month when my check engine light decided to ruin a Tuesday, and the guy at the counter didn't even try to upsell me. He plugged in the reader, told me it was a loose gas cap, tightened it, and waved me off.
The waiting area is exactly what you'd expect — a few chairs, some magazines from 2019, coffee that tastes like it was brewed during the Eisenhower administration. But here's what matters: the bays are full, the lift is working, and I watched them pull a transmission on a '06 Silverado with the kind of methodical competence that comes from doing this for decades.
They're not the fastest — I've heard people mention wait times that stretch longer than they'd like. That's the trade-off. The guys who know what they're doing are usually busy because, well, they know what they're doing. And on North Cliff, where half the block is still figuring out what it wants to be, Furby's just keeps being a repair shop.
No loaner cars, no shuttle service, no app to track your vehicle. Just wrenches and honesty and a phone number that someone actually answers.
— Grace
I stopped in last month when my check engine light decided to ruin a Tuesday, and the guy at the counter didn't even try to upsell me.