Living In Parish Magazine

The Man Who Shows Up

Living in Parish Magazine’s 2026 Man of the Year, Steve Bernard, has built a life around family, service and a simple philosophy: if somebody needs a hand, be there to give it.

There are awards you nominate people for. There are awards decided by votes, ballots and popularity. And then there are the ones you just know. When my mom and I decided Living in Parish Magazine would name a Man of the Year, we knew we wanted it to mean something different. We were looking for someone whose service to Livingston Parish was not confined to one organization, one project or one moment in the spotlight. Someone who wakes up, looks around and asks where he can help, even when nobody asked him to. We kept coming back to the same person: Steve Bernard.

If you spend much time around Livingston Parish, particularly anywhere involving the Chamber, Denham Springs Main Street, Kiwanis, the library, Spotlight Theater, a fundraiser, a community event or just about anything requiring somebody to show up and get their hands dirty, chances are you have seen Steve. Usually, he isn’t standing around waiting to be recognized. He’s working.

He is arriving early, staying late, carrying something, setting something up, taking something down or asking the question every event organizer loves to hear: “What do you need?” It is something Steve himself only really recognized about his personality in recent years. “I found out in the last five years, I love to volunteer,” he told me. “There’s this book on love languages, and one of them is service. I think that’s mine. I’ll go work all day for you.” And that might be the simplest explanation for why Steve Bernard is our 2026 Man of the Year.

Born and raised in Baton Rouge, Steve attended St. Thomas More, Broadmoor Junior High and Belaire High School before spending two years at LSU. His career in technology began almost accidentally in the early 1980s, when personal computers were still mysterious machines to most people. Steve was working at a hardware store at the time, while his brother was studying information science at LSU. His father happened to be friends with the manager of a computer business, and after one particularly frustrating day at the hardware store, Steve called his dad and asked if they might have a place for him.

They did, although his first job was mostly hauling equipment back and forth from storage. Then somebody let Steve get his hands on a computer. “I love techie stuff,” he said. “Anything with buttons.” He brought a computer home, read the DOS manual and started teaching himself.

Before long, he had figured out inventory software well enough that when a manager asked whether they had any monitors in storage, Steve could immediately tell him they had seven. His employers noticed. They sent him to IBM school, and Steve has been working in technology ever since.

Eventually, that path led him to Client Technology Services, the company he owns today. Even the name tells you something about Steve. When he and his partners left their previous company, Steve was adamant that he wasn’t going to solicit the clients he had worked with there. The clients had other ideas. They already had his cell phone number, and when they learned Steve had left, they began calling. One longtime client told him plainly, “We’re going with you.” Steve tried to explain that he wasn’t asking them to follow him.

They didn’t care. They trusted him. “So that’s how we got ‘client’ in the name,” he said. “Their clients were first, and it had to be technology.” Client Technology Services has since become recognizable for its brightly colored narwhal mascot, Chip, although Steve admits he wasn’t initially sold on the idea. Then he watched Elf. “I called Orhan and said, ‘All you had to do was open with the narwhal like the one in Elf. I’d have been sold.’” Somebody later gave Steve an even better explanation for the mascot: a narwhal is rare, just like “an IT guy you can talk to.” For a man whose entire career has revolved around technology, Steve’s success has always seemed to have considerably more to do with people.

That includes Shannon Bernard, his wife of 35 years. The two met through mutual friends after Steve was repeatedly told there was a “nice Christian girl” he needed to meet. Steve, who had been raised Catholic but admits he wasn’t exactly in his church-going era at the time, wasn’t entirely convinced. “I was like, ‘Oh man, I’m about to have to quit swearing, quit drinking and stuff,’” he laughed.

Eventually, he agreed to help Shannon with a computer problem, which is perhaps the most Steve Bernard way possible for a love story to begin. Ice cream followed, then a movie, and, as Steve put it, “then it was a date ever since.” They married June 8, 1991. After living in Baton Rouge for a while, Steve and Shannon always knew Livingston Parish would eventually be home. Shannon had been raised here, her father owned property here and they wanted the schools and community for their family. Eventually, they built on family property and raised their son, Chase.

Their family later grew in a way neither of them had exactly planned. Friends were completing foster care training because a child related to their family was entering the system, and they asked Steve and Shannon if they wanted to take the classes too. They did, although they never got in much of a hurry to finish the paperwork.

Then came a phone call. There was a six-week-old baby girl who needed somewhere to go. Her name was Bella. Steve and Shannon said yes, and Bella never left. Their experience with foster care introduced Steve to an entirely different side of the community and eventually led him to Family Village. Years ago, the organization was holding a volunteer day, and Steve asked Bella if she wanted to go with him. Bella, who loves to organize, claimed the shoes and spent the entire day working on them. Steve told her if she loved it that much, they could come back every week.
Steve kept coming back, started attending events and eventually was asked to serve on the board. Once again, he had shown up to help for a day and somehow turned it into years of service.

That pattern repeats itself throughout Steve’s life. He served on the Livingston Parish Library Board after learning about it through Kiwanis and later helped restart the Friends of the Livingston Parish Library System as a nonprofit. His enthusiasm for the library was never limited to sitting through board meetings. When he learned about the library’s book festival, he asked whether board members attended. Not really, he was told. Then he asked a different question: could board members volunteer? “Absolutely.”

Steve’s response was immediate: “What time do you want me there?” He even challenged his fellow board members to at least stop by the festival and see what was happening. Last year, when the library held a Renaissance-themed event, Steve and Shannon were made king and queen. What Steve thought might be a quick appearance turned into walking around, taking pictures, meeting exhibitors and, in Steve’s case, enthusiastically knighting people. Naturally, he loved every minute of it.

Then there is Denham Springs Main Street, Spotlight Theater, Walker Kiwanis, Family Village and the Livingston Parish Chamber of Commerce. As a Chamber ambassador, Steve discovered another role that suited him perfectly because it essentially gave him permission to walk into an event and ask if anyone needed help.

He began arriving early for Chamber functions to help set up and staying afterward to clean. Eventually, after doing that enough times, he figured he might as well join the gala committee too. “You need something done, let’s do it,” he said. Last year’s red carpet gala became one of his favorites because he got to interview people as they waited in line, talking to them, getting them excited and making sure they were ready to have a good time. “I like meeting people,” Steve said. “Everything to me is networking.”

At 62, Steve’s Saturdays routinely contain two or three places he needs to be. Shannon occasionally reminds him that he might be booking himself a little too heavily. Steve has an answer for that too. “Some of these are once-a-year things,” he said. “If you don’t go today, you’ve got to wait a year.” So he goes. It is the same philosophy he brought to raising Chase and Bella. “My kids are only kids for so long,” he said.

Chase used to wake up at 6:30 in the morning asking, “What are we doing today?” Steve always had an answer. They were going somewhere. They were doing something. There was too much life happening outside the house to sit around and miss it. Even Steve’s animals have somehow gotten drafted into community service. The Bernards’ dog, Johnny, was adopted through Dog People of Livingston after the family lost their beloved dachshund, Snoopy. Steve also has three tortoises, and once fellow volunteers discovered that fact, naturally the tortoises started making appearances at children’s events too. Apparently, in the Bernard household, everybody volunteers.

Livingston Parish has no shortage of people who serve, and that is part of what makes this community so special. What made Steve stand out to my mom and me wasn’t simply the number of organizations we could put beside his name. It was how often we saw him in places where there was nothing for him to gain by being there. There is no job beneath him. He doesn’t need a title attached to the work, a seat on the board or a photograph afterward. If something needs doing, Steve does it. Some people give their money. Some give their expertise. Some lend their names.

Steve Bernard gives something increasingly precious: his time. He gives it to Shannon, Chase and Bella. He gives it to his clients. He gives it to foster children, libraries, local businesses, theater, service clubs, nonprofits and community events throughout the parish he chose to call home. Somewhere along the way, Steve discovered that service was simply how he loved people. Wherever Livingston Parish needs him, he makes sure he’s there. And that is why this one wasn’t up for a vote. Living in Parish Magazine is proud to name Steve Bernard our 2026 Man of the Year.

The Idea Station: A Piece of Home and Heart

Taylor Kennard | Small Business Spotlight

Down in the heart of Watson there is a gift shop called The Idea Station that was opened by Marcia Tinsley in 1994. She began making the shop a place where people could come and purchase personal gifts for any occasion. Marcia ran The Idea Station for eleven years until sadly passing away in 2005. That same year, Tammy Smith, then employee of ten years, bought the store from the family and runs it to this day.

Tammy has owned The Idea Station for going on twenty-two years and worked there for going on thirty-two years. Her love of the shop, selling specialty gifts, and meeting people in the community is what led Tammy to know that it would be a great fit for her. Outside of running
The Idea Station, Tammy enjoys spending time working in her yard, traveling, and spending time with family. Tyler Candles, Lampe Berger, Jewelry, home decor, baby, ladies and men's gifts are some of the unique items the shop has to offer. They also offer customized gift wrapping and gift certificates. Christmas and Mother’s Day are among the busiest times of the year for the shop. The Idea Station is proud to be one of the oldest and largest gift shops in the area and to be a place where customers will love to shop for generations to come.

📍35150 LA-16, Denham Springs, LA
(Watson)

Photo credit: Taylor Marie Photography

Supposed to Be Blue Collar

An afternoon over ice cream with Brad Cascio started with a conversation about prosecution. Somewhere between mechanics, mozzarella and the long road to law school, it became a conversation about the work that got him here.

Brad Cascio had never been to Mustard Seed Creamery.

That was one of the first things I learned about him when we sat down over ice cream, and admittedly, it wasn’t exactly the information I had invited him there to tell me. I had come prepared to talk about prosecution. Thirteen years of it.

Cascio has spent more than a decade as an Assistant District Attorney for the 21st Judicial District, prosecuted more than 4,000 cases and now finds himself running for District Attorney. But I tend to start interviews the same way, no matter who I’m sitting across from.

“What made you want to do this?”
The answer usually tells me where the rest of the conversation is going to go. Cascio’s answer took us all the way back to when he was 19 years old and learning to become a mechanic. There was no lifelong dream of becoming an attorney. No story about always knowing he belonged in a courtroom. In fact, the first time someone seriously suggested law school, he laughed at the idea.

“You’re crazy,” he remembered telling his wife, Katie. “That’s for rich people’s kids.”
Sitting across from him now, that answer almost feels impossible to picture. But the more we talked, the more I realized he wasn’t trying to make his beginnings sound humbler than they were. He genuinely believed that. Cascio grew up in Hammond in what he describes as a working-class family. He attended Holy Ghost Catholic School, then St. Thomas Aquinas High School, before eventually finding his way from trade school to Southeastern Louisiana University. Even getting through college looked more like a work schedule than a college schedule.

“I would go to school Tuesday and Thursday, all day,” he told me. “Then I would work construction Monday, Wednesday, Friday. And then I would work in a restaurant Friday night and Saturday night.”

He shrugged as if there wasn’t anything remarkable about it. “That was the majority of college.”

I don’t know why that answer stuck with me, but it did. Maybe because it explained so much about everything that came after. Before there was law school, there was construction. Before there were courtrooms, there were restaurant shifts. Before there were suits, there were work boots.

The more Cascio talked, the more I realized that blue-collar kid never really disappeared. He just ended up carrying that same mentality into a profession most people don’t associate with it.

After graduating from Southeastern with a criminal justice degree in 2008, Cascio thought he was going to become a federal agent. Then he met Katie. The two met through a mixer between his fraternity, Sigma Tau Gamma, and her sorority, Phi Mu. As their relationship grew more serious, so did the realization that a career built around constant travel probably wasn’t the life he wanted anymore. Instead, he took a job selling paper products and supplies to bars and restaurants.
He hated it.

“I was miserable,” he said. “I was driving 3,000 miles a month in my personal truck. I just wasn’t enjoying it at all.”

Katie noticed. “My wife knows that I’m the kind of person that wants to enjoy what he does.”
So she suggested law school. His response?
“You’re crazy.”

He laughed telling the story, but he was serious at the time. To Cascio, law school belonged to a completely different world. Going to college had already been a milestone for his family. Becoming an attorney felt like something other people did. Katie kept pushing anyway.

Eventually, he took the LSAT on a whim. He scored well enough that the crazy idea suddenly didn’t seem so crazy. He quit the sales job, went back to construction, borrowed what he describes as “a ton of money” and enrolled at LSU Law School. Like anyone borrowing that kind of money, he figured he’d better find a career that paid well.

“I thought, okay, I’m borrowing all this money, and I want to make a lot of money when I get out.”
Fair enough. So, he interned with a large law firm. It should have been exactly what he wanted.
Instead, he found himself in another job he didn’t enjoy.

“I just felt like we were churning, burning and going, but not actually doing.”
It wasn’t that Cascio didn’t want to work. If anything, everything he’d told me up to that point suggested the exact opposite. He just wanted the work to matter. That’s what eventually led him to the District Attorney’s Office in Amite. No appointment. No connections. No carefully planned introduction. He simply walked in and asked to speak with then-District Attorney Scott Perrilloux. They had never met. Eventually, Perrilloux came out and sat down with him.

Cascio asked if he could work there part time. There wasn’t money in the budget.
“Well, that’s okay,” Cascio remembered telling him. “Don’t pay me. I just want to work here and see if I like it.”

That may have been my favorite story of the afternoon. For someone who had spent years working construction and restaurant shifts because he needed the paycheck, volunteering to work for free said everything I needed to know about how badly he wanted to find work that actually fulfilled him. He found it.

“I just fell in love with the work itself.”
As he talked about prosecution, I noticed something. He almost never talked about winning. He talked about working. Sure, he admitted criminal cases are interesting.

“Just when you think you’ve seen it all, something else…” he said, letting the sentence trail off.
I didn’t need him to finish it. After 13 years, I had a feeling there were probably hundreds of stories sitting behind that unfinished sentence. But when I asked why he’d stayed all these years, his answer wasn’t about excitement.

“Mainly, it’s the impact you can have, and the difference you can make, and the way you can help people,” he said. “I just love it.”

Today, Cascio handles felony, juvenile and Department of Children and Family Services cases for the 21st Judicial District while also serving as City Prosecutor for Denham Springs and French Settlement. Those are the résumé facts. The story he told me about becoming good at the job was much more interesting.

“When I first started, I was wearing the floor out between my office and the older guys’ and girls’ offices,” he said.

Every few files, he’d run into something he’d never seen before. So, he’d grab the file, walk down the hall and ask someone who had.
“Here’s the rap sheet. Here’s what they did. Here’s what they’re saying they did. What do you think?”

Then he’d listen. He told me prosecution isn’t just knowing the law. It’s learning judgment. Learning when to push. Learning when to listen. Learning how to weigh circumstances that don’t fit neatly inside a criminal code.

“That’s a skill that you have to hone and train years to really develop the right sense to do it.”
Now, thirteen years later, those footsteps come the other direction.

“Now, I’m the guy that they come to,” he said before laughing. “It’s hard to believe I’m the older guy there, but I am.”

I laughed too. Oddly enough, that was probably the moment the whole interview clicked for me. Not the 4,000 cases. Not the titles. The hallway. That’s how he measures experience. Not by awards or accomplishments, but by the day he realized younger prosecutors had started walking into his office asking the same questions he used to ask everyone else. When the conversation shifted to Katie, the tone changed immediately.

“I chased her for a while,” he laughed. “Because I was not a prosecutor when I was a young man. I made my fair share of bad decisions.”
Apparently, Katie remembered that version of Brad Cascio, too.

“She really wouldn’t date me. She was like, ‘You’ve got to calm down. You’re partying too much. You’re doing this, you’re doing that. I’m serious.’” He listened. “She really got me on track,” he said. “I owe her a lot.”

Then came one answer I wasn’t expecting.
“I get the benefit of a second chance,” Cascio told me. “If a young person really needs it, wants it and deserves it.”

For someone whose career revolves around accountability, it was interesting hearing him talk just as openly about grace. Then we got to my favorite story. The Cascios have three children: Olivia, Sam and Benny… and one Labradoodle named Mozzy.

“Like mozzarella?” I asked.

Exactly like mozzarella. The kids named him after their favorite cheese. I laughed. That one was absolutely making the article. Apparently, Katie had been asking Brad to get the kids a dog while she was pregnant with their youngest child. Then they had the baby. Most people would probably decide a newborn was enough excitement for one week. Brad Cascio showed up with a puppy.
“I was like, ‘Guess what I got,’” he laughed.

He dropped the puppy in the living room, let everyone enjoy the excitement, then went back to work. Somehow, that story felt perfectly on brand. By the time our ice cream had long since melted and our conversation at Mustard Seed was winding down, I’d almost forgotten why we’d met there in the first place. Yes, Brad Cascio is running for District Attorney. But for nearly two hours, that wasn’t really what we talked about.

We talked about construction jobs, bad career choices, a wife who believed in him before he believed in himself, the hallway he used to wear out asking older prosecutors for advice, and a Labradoodle named after mozzarella cheese. At one point, Cascio admitted something that probably summed him up better than anything else he said that afternoon.

“I don’t like politics,” he said. “I love this job though.”

By then, I believed him. Not because he told me. Because for the last two hours, he hadn’t sounded like someone trying to convince me to vote for him. He sounded like someone talking about work. The kind of work you learn by asking questions, putting in long hours and showing up day after day until one morning you realize you’re the person everyone else comes to for answers.

Brad Cascio thought he was supposed to become a mechanic. He thought he was supposed to be blue collar.

After an afternoon over ice cream at Mustard Seed Creamery, I’m not entirely convinced he was wrong.
The tools just changed.

Car Connect: Keeping Livingston Parish
Moving

For Anthony Bridges, Patrick Deslatte and Jackie Deslatte, Car Connect started with a simple
observation: people depend on their vehicles every day, but most do not have the time,
knowledge or desire to constantly keep up with them. Their solution brings vehicle maintenance
directly to the customer.

Most people know they are supposed to check their oil. They know tires wear down, batteries eventually die and that strange sound coming from somewhere underneath the hood probably deserves attention. Actually finding the time to do something about it is another story.

Between work, school pickup, ball practice, errands and everything else packed into a Livingston Parish week, spending an afternoon in a mechanic shop waiting room is not exactly high on anyone’s list.

Anthony Bridges, Patrick Deslatte and Jackie Deslatte believe there is a better way. Their new business, Car Connect, is built around a surprisingly simple concept: what if someone else kept up with your vehicle for you?

“We want to get the most working life out of your vehicle that we can get,” Anthony said. “You
pay too much for it to let things slide.”

Where the Idea Started
For Anthony, the idea was years in the making.
While working for LSU managing its cattle herd, he was also responsible for keeping a fleet of
older vehicles running.

“We had, like, ’99, 2000-model trucks that we had to keep up,” Anthony recalled. “One of the
main things that I liked to do was have my guys confident their vehicle was going to run when
they turned the key.”

Whether they were traveling a few miles or much farther, reliability mattered. That lesson followed Anthony throughout his career in agriculture and later insurance. “Having a reliable vehicle is very important,” he said. “You don’t want to be stuck on the side of the road somewhere.”Anthony had also done plenty of vehicle maintenance himself over the years.

“Early in my life, I did a lot of DIY stuff,” he said. “Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn’t.”
Eventually, those experiences planted the seed for a business centered on maintaining vehicles
correctly and catching problems early.

Patrick’s road to Car Connect was different.
A retired Navy veteran, Patrick spent five years managing a rubber plant after his military career.
With another baby on the way, he began thinking seriously about doing something different.
“I got tired of being dirty every night,” Patrick said.

The carbon from the plant followed him home so regularly that he still laughs about it. “There was a black ring around the bathtub,” he said. “I looked like I was in a goth band.”

Patrick and Anthony eventually met through a mutual friend at a Saints game. Both were
considering entering the hotshot trucking business, and Patrick used his military benefits to earn his CDL.

But as the economics surrounding hotshot trucking changed, Anthony suggested a different plan. “He said, ‘Put the brakes on that and help me start this thing up and see what we can do here, because I think it’s a good idea,’” Patrick recalled.

Car Connect was born.
Jackie, who is also a Navy veteran and met Patrick through their military service, joined the
venture as well. She handles much of the office work and scheduling while she and Patrick raise
their five children.

For a husband-and-wife team with five kids, starting a business is hardly the easy option.
But their own packed schedule also gives them firsthand knowledge of the type of customer Car
Connect hopes to serve.

Bringing the Service to You
Car Connect comes directly to its customers, whether that means meeting someone in their
driveway or going to their workplace.
During recurring “Care Checks,” the team inspects as much of the vehicle as possible without putting it on a rack, including fluids, tires, windshield and glass, battery condition, body damage, warning lights and diagnostic codes.“You’re getting a report from us every time we come out,” Anthony explained. “This is what we
found is a problem, and you make the call from there on what you want to get fixed.”

The company’s personal service plans can also include oil changes, roadside call-outs, towing
assistance, detailing and, with its top package, a loaner vehicle while the customer’s car is being
serviced.

For businesses, Car Connect offers similar fleet services designed to keep company vehicles on
the road. But the real value may be less about what is listed on a service sheet and more about the problems customers never knew they had.

Catching It Before It Costs Thousands
One of Car Connect’s first customers provided a perfect example. Patrick went out for an initial Care Check on a truck that had not been maintained particularly well. He checked the oil.
Nothing appeared on the dipstick. He added a quart. Still nothing.

Eventually, they discovered the truck, which should have held roughly seven or eight quarts of
oil, was running with only about two.
“He was driving around with two quarts of oil in a truck that takes seven or eight,” Anthony said.
Without someone checking, the customer could have eventually lost the engine entirely.

Another client was preparing to drive to Florida when Car Connect found that her coolant was
low. They filled it and returned the following day.
It was low again. “Okay, this is a problem,” Anthony recalled. “You’re about to take a hundreds-of-miles road trip, and you’re leaking coolant somewhere.”

Instead of discovering that problem somewhere between Louisiana and Florida, she was able to
have it diagnosed before leaving. The issue was a leaking thermostat. Those are the problems Car Connect wants to find.

“We’re decreasing costs, we’re increasing engine life,” Anthony said. “That’s our goal.”

In another case, a fleet customer called after the shift linkage on a work vehicle broke. The
customer had been quoted around $750 for the repair elsewhere.

Car Connect went to the vehicle and discovered the problem could be fixed with a part costing
around $30. They installed it, and the customer was able to finish the workday. The savings were not only in the repair bill. For a business owner, every hour a work vehicle sits in a shop can mean lost income.

Another Set of Eyes
Car Connect is not trying to replace the mechanic.

Instead, Patrick describes their role as being “kind of like a third party.” When a problem requires shop work, the team can help coordinate repairs through trusted partners, including Simple Simon in Baton Rouge. Car Connect finds the symptoms, helps determine what needs attention and gives the owner another set of eyes throughout the process.

That can be particularly valuable for someone who knows very little about cars. Patrick recalled one customer being straightforward about exactly why he hired them. “He said, ‘I’m ignorant of auto mechanics, so I’m glad I hired y’all because y’all can do this,’” Patrick said.
And that customer is far from alone.

Car Connect sees several groups who could benefit from the service, from busy professionals to business owners with fleets and parents worried about the vehicles their young drivers depend on.

“The busy professional that goes to the office and does their nine to five, and they’re working
overtime and trying to stay ahead of the game, they don’t have time to take a day off and go get
their vehicle worked on,” Anthony said.

Then there is the parent whose teenager has started driving. “The older parent who’s worried about their younger child, or driving-age child, not being able to take care of it,” Anthony said. “You’re getting a report from us every time we come out.”It means Mom or Dad does not have to wonder whether the oil is low, the tires are worn or a warning light has been ignored for three weeks. Someone is checking.

The People Behind the Business
Outside Car Connect, all three have lives every bit as busy as the customers they serve.
Patrick and Jackie are raising five children and have two dogs, Rosie and Roscoe. Roscoe
became part of the family somewhat unexpectedly after simply showing up one day.
They found his owner, who no longer wanted him, and Roscoe found himself a new home.
Patrick is also involved with the Knights of Columbus, while Jackie balances the family and
scheduling side of the growing business.

Anthony stays busy himself. He serves as the 2026 president of the Business Associates of Baton Rouge, a networking organization with more than 50 members, and at home has two daughters and an impressive collection of animals, including dogs, cats, guinea pigs and a snake.

Free time is scarce for all three.
Perhaps that is exactly why they understand the problem they are trying to solve.
Car Connect is still young, only a few months into business, and its owners are open about the
realities of getting a new concept in front of people.

“We always get good feedback from people,” Anthony said. “‘Oh, that’s a great idea. That’s a
great idea.’”

Now, the challenge is helping people realize that it might be a great idea for them.
Because eventually every vehicle needs something.

Sometimes it is an oil change. Sometimes it is a dead battery or a flat tire. Sometimes it is two
missing quarts of oil, a coolant leak before a road trip or a $30 part standing between a business
owner and a $750 repair bill.

For Car Connect, the goal is to find those things before they become bigger things.
“We’re going to go the extra mile,” Anthony said, “to make sure that it’s taken care of properly.”