Harris Auto Wreckers or "Leo's Place" isn't what this story is about.
It’s about a businessman with talent, grit, and a long-standing commitment to the people around him.
Leo Barendregt was nine years old when he got his first car. His father Casey and uncles bought Harris Auto Wreckers in 1972, and Leo more or less landed in the family trade. He moved through the years from fixing cars to running the shop. When his dad suffered an aneurysm in 2007, Leo stepped up, taking over the business and the books.
In Driftwood and the surrounding area, Leo was never seen as just an auto wrecker. People thought of him as someone who could fix things—not just cars, but problems. When something went wrong, the natural response was to bring it to Leo.
His business drew more than local attention. Some weeks, the phone rang hundreds of times, with calls coming in from all over the province and even the Yukon. People knew where to go when other solutions didn’t work.
Leo’s help wasn’t just mechanical. Over the years, stories piled up about him going the extra mile for customers, often quietly. Whether it was fitting in repairs on short notice, giving people rides while waiting for parts, or charging what was fair rather than what was possible, his presence reached well beyond the shop.
One day, a lift-arm for a rear window turned into a one-hour visit that also fixed my signal light and replaced a dingy headlamp—typical for Leo, who didn’t like to see small issues left unsolved.
Another time, a Californian's four-wheel drive failed when it was needed most. Back home, the repair would’ve cost a small fortune. Back home, Leo spotted a chewed-up vacuum hose and had it replaced for a fraction of the cost. That repair led to another family trip into the valley.
Stories like these aren’t rare. They’re the reason people—especially single moms—kept coming back. Sometimes, they waited for parts with the confidence that someone would make sure they got home safely.
But in Sept. 2024, things changed. One of Leo’s brothers, along with an investor from Edmonton, made him an offer. He negotiated, it was accepted, and he let go of the business he had shaped for decades.
Leo and his wife Jackie aren’t planning any big moves. She’s stayed on at the Sausage Factory, where she’s worked for 20 years, and says she’s happy right where she is. For now, they’re taking a moment to breathe—no rush, no schedule, just seeing what life brings next.
Leo isn’t chasing anything. Whatever’s next, he says, will come on its own.
