Matt, humble? It's an act! I swear! I am acting too for fun:
When you get to be my age, Matt (I'm fifty three next month),,,
never mind that you're already 54
as I was sayin', Matt, when you get to be my age, which is
solidly in the Geezer Park, then you get to lecture the World.
I recall the first mechanic that I ever knew, the most important one
I ever met, when I was eighteen and a sailor based at Charleston.
The Navy base had for amenity, an auto hobby shop.
An old civilian man worked there on good days part time.
My first car was a derelict Mercedes Benz.
I was taking it all apart but got stuck at the first lug nut.
I had a handy-dandy hand-held impact wrench--
hit its head with a hammer and
it rounded off the last of the flats.
Fred was passing seventy back in '73.
He had swollen feet and rheumy eyes that spoke as much,
as he spoke very little--a serious man dealing with congestive heart failure.
Fred presided at the auto hobby shop, and mostly, he pointed.
Fred looked a lot like an old Buster Keaton,
although Fred was never funny.
Back to my rounded lug nut:
Fred came to my bay where he assessed the situation in five seconds.
He pulled a cold chisel from bib overall pants and he took up a hammer
and he showed me for the first time how real mechanics work.
Of course it was just a confident strike on the chisel held obliquely to the nut.
One more blow and it was done.
Fred said not a word. He only looked at me
and winked as I responded in amazement with my thanks.
"Fred! That's great! When did you learn to do that?"
"1920", said Fred, that's all.