Mario Busto Auto Repair - Miami Adrian Fernandez: Some stories start on the road. Mine begins with a grey 1986 Dodge Aries K-Car, barreling across the country from Los Angeles to Miami, driven by my grandfather Ramiro Fernandez, a quiet hard working man and a job waiting at the Dade County Board of Education. That car, was dependable—but only just. It coughed. It overheated. It complained at every turn. But it got him to work. It got me to school.
And when it didn’t, we went to Mario’s Auto Repair.
If you were lucky enough to grow up in Miami in the ‘80s or early ‘90s, you know that places like Mario’s were part garage, part community center, part confessional booth. That old Dodge Aries K-car went through radiators, water pumps, brakes, CV joints— axles- hell, it even got a rebuilt engine, all under Mario’s watchful eye. And through every visit, every repair, Mario was fair, kind, and never once tried to sell us something we didn’t need.
There was no waiting room. Some days, I’d just loiter outside with my grandfather for hours, leaning against that worn-out Dodge, watching Mario work his magic, listening to the clatter of tools and the hum of old Miami heat.
And sweeping the shop floor was a kind deaf-mute man Mario employed—always smiling, always working. I still wonder about him. Does anyone remember his name?
When money was tight, Mario gave my grandfather terms. No paperwork. No interest. Just a nod, a handshake, and an understanding. It was old-school honor—the kind you don’t find on Yelp or Google Maps. The kind this city was built on.
We stayed with Mario until the early ‘90s, when my grandfather upgraded to a red Toyota Corolla and eventually left the K-car, and much of that era, behind.
As I prepare to leave Miami myself, I’m making it a point to leave reviews for the legacy businesses that made my childhood human. And Mario’s Auto Repair is near the top of that list.
So if you’re in Miami, and your car’s making a noise it shouldn’t, don’t go to the flashy chain down the street. Go to Mario’s. Let him remind you of what service used to be.
What decency used to look like.
They don’t make them like that anymore. And that’s exactly why this place matters.
