The Man Who Can See Through Dirt
Ross Owen, who works with Dave Martindale, says, “He’s just got a good eye for those great older cars no one else seems to notice. He sees things that other people walk by.”
Martindale puts it more simply: “I can see through dirt.”
Trying to get Martindale to sit down for a 15-minute interview is like trying to get a cat to take a bath. He won’t sit still, his eyes constantly dart around, and he keeps trying to escape. In the two hours I’ve spent attempting to interview the man, he’s run across the street twice (“I’ll be back in just a sec”), taken at least five phone calls, and bounced around his Southeast Portland, OR, shop like a pinball in one of the vintage arcade machines he houses there (which, by the way, are for sale). When he finally sits down behind his desk, slumped in his ubiquitous Hawaiian shirt, I ask him if he’s always like this, or just mainlining caffeine.
Martindale just laughs and says, “I’m just hyper. I always have to be doing something.”