Leonard Andrew "L.A." Thomas, Sr.

L.A. dedicated more than 40 years of service to VIA, beginning his career at just 17 years old as a shop attendant. Through perseverance, skill, and pride in his craft, he advanced to mechanic and ultimately Shop Foreman. For decades, he helped keep the fleet running, earning the respect of coworkers who knew they could always count on him. His work ethic and mechanical expertise were a source of pride not only for him, but for his entire family.

That same love for fixing and building carried into his personal life. L.A. was rarely without a project, always working on cars and, in recent years, becoming the go-to small engine repairman in his neighborhood. If a lawnmower, power washer, or anything with an engine was on the fritz, L.A. was happy to help. He rebuilt a number of vehicles over the years, both foreign and domestic.

His love of cars extended to membership in the Triumph, Ford, and Trans Am car clubs, through which he participated in rallies, car shows, meetups, and parades.

At home, he was a constant partner to his beloved wife, Mary Ann “Cookie”. He supported her home daycare with patience and affection, helping whenever he could, and some of the children there came to know him as “Honey,” a nickname borrowed from Cookie herself. It was a testament to the gentle, loving presence he had in their lives.

L.A. and Cookie shared a love of the open road, taking their children on road trips across the United States creating lifelong memories along the way. In later years, summers were reserved for his grandchildren - trips to the zoo, afternoons at the bowling alley, fishing adventures, and countless moments of laughter. He was a doting husband and truly the best grandpa.

Known for his hospitality, L.A. made legendary top-shelf frozen “millionaire” margaritas and regularly opened his home to neighbors and friends, hosting open houses that brought families together and turned neighbors into lifelong friends.

L.A. was preceded in death by his loving wife of 63 years, Mary Ann “Cookie” Thomas, whom he missed dearly, his son, Leonard Andrew Thomas, Jr., and his sister, Betty Wentz. He is survived by his children, Steven Eugene Thomas, Theresa Eileen Thomas, and Melissa Annette Ling and husband James, and daughter in law Michele Carmel Thomas; grandchildren, Samuel Zachary Thomas, and Tyler Edward, Thomas James and wife Samantha, Madison Taylor, and Timothy Scott Ling; nephew, Wayne Ratliff, with whom he shared a special bond; and his beloved cats, Kit Kat and Midnight, who brought him comfort and companionship. His legacy lives on through the many lives he touched - as a husband, father, grandfather, mentor, and friend.

He will be remembered for his steady hands, his generous heart, and the way he made everyone feel welcome.

The family will receive friends for visitation on Tuesday, January 27, 2026 at 6:00 PM at Porter Loring Mortuary, located at 1101 McCullough Ave, San Antonio, Texas 78212. Eulogies and remembrances will begin at 7:00 PM. The next day, Wednesday, January 28, 2026, a funeral service will begin at 10:00 AM, after which a procession will depart for Holy Cross Cemetery where L.A. will be reunited with his beloved Cookie.

While flowers are welcome, please consider making a memorial contribution to St. Phillip's College Automotive Program Scholarship: https://giving.alamo.edu/g/spc

Our dad was born on November 20, 1943, in San Antonio, Texas to Jefferson Davis Thomas and Viola Mae Hardin Thomas. While we didn’t know a whole lot about Dad’s family, he told us many stories about growing up on the south side of San Antonio. As a kid, he swam in the river near the Missions and spent time at Hot Wells. His dad owned a junkyard, and that’s where Dad’s lifelong love of cars began.

Dad loved telling stories about learning to drive at the age of 12 – long before he had a license and he may or may not have had the appear before a judge multiple times. He also loved to tell us how he drove a different car to school every day, including a Cadillac – possibly a ’59 – and many others that came through the junkyard.

Dad married our mom, Mary Ann “Cookie” Thomas, on October 10, 1962. Together they raised four children: Leonard, Steven, Theresa, and Melissa.

Dad began working at VIA, formerly the San Antonio Metropolitan Transit System, in the 1960s at the age of 17. He started as a shop attendant and quickly moved up to mechanic and then foreman. Even then, it was hard to keep him in the office – he preferred being out on the floor. One time, while overseeing a mechanic doing a brake job, Dad stepped in and said, “Here, let me show you how to do it,” and ended up doing the brake job himself.

Dad rarely missed a day of work. His hard work ethics were deeply engrained in all of us. There was a time at work when Dad was pinned between two buses because someone failed to set the brake on one of them. Thankfully, from running track in high school, he had built up incredible strength in his legs. He missed only one day of work and was back after the weekend.

Over the years, Dad moonlighted by working on cars during evenings and weekends. He was so well respected that his supervisors recommended him to executives to work on their personal vehicles. Later, he became the neighborhood lawnmower repair guy. People would sometimes just give him their lawnmowers and buy new ones, even though he told them all they needed was a tune-up. One neighbor even gave him a weed eater, a chainsaw, and a pressure washer. This in turn led to several pressure washing jobs from the neighbors after they saw my Dad working on his driveway and helping me with mine.

Before any family trip, Dad made sure the car was ready for the road. He always packed the “essentials” – tools, oil, rags – long before we ever packed the car and puled out of the driveway. For many years, we made the annual trip to Marshall, Texas. He also powered through driving marathons to Florida, California, Colorado, and anywhere else that took more than eight hours just to get out of Texas. One trip to Memphis, he immediately started talking to the bus driver when the door opened and we all got a free bus ride down to Beale St. and back.

After retiring from VIA, Dad helped Mom with her daycare. He served meals, took the kids on walks, and even picked them up after school. He became “Grandpa” to many. After the kids left for the day, Dad vacuumed and Mom mopped.

Alongside Grandma, Grandpa proudly attended soccer games, cheerleading and dance performances, piano recitals, band concerts, and every basketball, football, baseball game, or school performance the grandkids were involved in.

I spoke of the many weekends of smelling Grandma’s homemade buttermilk pancakes and making sure there was Promised Land chocolate milk and making sure each grandchild got their preferred bacon or sausage. Well, Grandpa was the one who went to the store early on those Saturday mornings for that buttermilk, syrup, orange juice, chocolate milk, and breakfast sausages with cheese.

Dad’s love of cars led them to him and Mom joining several car clubs and even a dance club over the years. They attended monthly meetings, went on weekend drives through small towns, participated in parades, and truly enjoyed the friendships they made. He also went to many car shows in and around town.

At a party hosted by a man named George Jones, Dad learned how to make his signature frozen margaritas. He rarely drank them himself, but he loved making them for others. We enjoyed those margaritas as monthly birthday celebrations, holidays, family get-togethers, and our annual beach trip to The Lost Colony in Port Aransas. As mentioned in Mom’s eulogy, all the grown kids cooked, and Grandma and Grandpa brought the margarita machine.

Dad loved Halloween just as much as Mom. He happily went along with whatever theme she chose and wore his costume without question. He especially enjoyed gently “spooking” trick-or-treaters by slowly approaching the door after Mom opened it. Sometimes he even made a batch of margaritas for daycare parents or neighbors who stopped by along their candy route.

Grandpa helped Grandma with Thanksgiving, Christmas shopping, and holiday preparations. He climbed out the upstairs window onto the roof to hang icicle lights – back before the convenient ones existed – carefully counting “7, 5, 3” to get the pattern just right. Like Mom, he welcomed everyone into their home with a warm smile and a “How do you want your Margarita?”

Dad was a kind, old soul. He loved visiting with neighbors, telling them about his cars, and striking up conversations with strangers about cars. In recent months, if he didn’t answer his phone I knew where I could find him – either down the street or at a friend of the family’s helping them with their cars or trucks.

Other than kidney stones, Dad was in fairly good health for most of his life. He rarely drank, though he blamed the one time he had his gallbladder removed on some Purple Passion my brother brought to a party. There was also another occasion when Dad bought something from a co-worker, and later we discovered a hole melted through a Styrofoam cup next to the sink.

Dad was surprisingly more alert and active in the ICU than he had been when he was first admitted to the hospital in December. He talked, complained about the tube feeding – asking instead for vanilla ice cream – and, of course, talked about cars. He perked up when my brother mentioned a radiator.

When we returned to Inspiration Hills to collect his belongings, we were told that in the days before his last hospitalization, Dad had seen our Mom on several occasions.

Our dad was a kind and incredibly strong man. Like our Mom, he lived a full and rewarding life. Dad simply couldn’t live without Mom – they needed to be together again. They were married for 63 years and had been together since they were 16 years old. Dad was always so proud of that, and rightfully so.

We take comfort in knowing that Dad is now in Heaven, at peace, reunited with our Mom and our brother, Leonard Jr., and waiting to be reunited with the rest of us one day.

“Those who touch our lives stay in our hearts forever.”