My two cents worth and then some. Allow me to apologize in advance for the length of this post. A young man's life is at stake here and all that..
I was probably doomed from the start.
My mom kept a list of the words that I spewed forth as I was learning to talk. Among the first 15 or 20 at the top of the list were GO, CAR, and FAST. Since I had shown such proficiency with the spoken word, she then decided to continue with printed matter. Starting school reading years above grade level appeared to make the classroom a truly dull and tedious place to waste years of my life. But I digress....
The folks bought me an Erector Set for my second birthday. I didn't eat the screws.
In second grade, I took a carburetor to school for "Show and Tell". I knew what it was and what it did. There wasn't time in class to dis-and-reassemble it, but I could have.
A year or so later dad got a bright idea(mom didn't think so): Drag a car home from the boneyard and put it in the yard for me to mess with. Choices were a Peugeot 403 with no engine, or a '60 Renault Dauphine with half of one. That record player that moms have in them seemed stuck on "clothes ruined with car grease" until the Renault went away a few years later. I still have the Glenn's Manual it came with around here somewhere.
By then I was reading the tech articles in the "Motor" magazines that I would bum from nearby service stations. Neighborhood kids brought their basket case go-kart motors for revival.
The school that I went to in grades 7-8 cancelled their Annual Spelling Bee the second year to spare Jenny X. the trauma of losing again.
Changed the points in mom's Duster.
Had a mess of electives to fill in 9th grade, so took Wood Shop AND Metal shop.
Metal shop teacher WAS one of those inspiring types. Didn't inspire me to go to college but my lathe hasn't removed any body parts yet. Had a really nice '41 Ford convertible as a daily driver, too.
Some guy I met paid me $75 to put a head gasket in his Honda Civic. I followed the book and it ran better afterward.(probably the beginning of the end) Did brakes on his '65 Riviera after that.. Test drives were real nervous at 15 with no license and city cops everywhere.
Used up a bunch of 10th grade electives on a 2 period shop class - Beginning Auto Trades. Met a guy with a friend that did body work at a garage.
Another buddy got me a job in a theater as a projectionist. That helped later when serpentine belts got popular. Not much help with homework though. Saw Phantasm 347 times.
Got a summer job after 10th grade - making dumb widgets in a dumb factory. Bought a '66 Dart GT with a newer 318 and incinerated a mountain of 13" tires. Was informed that due to, um, attendance issues, the high school was done with my dumb a$$ and I could go to continuation school in a very rough part of town. I'm not that rough, so I kept my day job.. For a year. $104.75 a week and only 2 days to spend it!
Kyle met someone at a party one night. What's a speedball? Try it, you'll like it. John Belushi tried one a few months later and joined Kyle at that party in the sky.
The guy that ran the garage didn't mind if I hung out, If I didn't get in the way. After a while, he started paying me to change water pumps and such. I bought tools. After a couple of years his partner was calling me 'Doc' and asking how to fix stuff.. Deeky got leukemia and died at 25, leaving a wife and kid. We never found out if it was diet or genes or a few years of daily exposure to automotive chemical crap or what.
A couple years later I took the A.S.E. tests and got a 'Master Auto Technician' certificate.
Went skiing and twisted the hell out of my knee. Ox got in an argument with some kid. Won the argument but lost the gunfight afterward. Steve went to C.C. and took fun courses.
A couple more years and I was in a fancier shop fixing fancier cars for a fancier check.
Repeated a couple years later. Now, when the Benz that hauled the boss' wife and kids had brake problems, Doc was the one that fixed it. Tool cabinets packed full, I could save some $$. Some of my buddies had spendy coke habits but I was thinking about a new 4X4. Real nice job, wish I could have kept it, Thanks for everything Jon!
Inherited a few bucks and a house in a small town. City life was grating on me so I quit my $18hr job and moved in.
Found that with decreased need came decreased ambition. Spent my $ and then looked for a job.
Found the job at a Chevy dealer that sold 95% pickups.. where the dead pickups all had cow stuff on the underside.. and the other tech had a girlfriend.. who just happened to be the Service Manager. Guess who worked on undersides. At least the parts guy knew his job.
Took the G.E.D.. 76% in the writing part and 95-100% on the rest.
City schmucks were polluting my little town with their city b.s. and it wasn't little anymore. Steve was stuck in a dead end job that was eating him up. Pshrinks prescribed meds in veternary quantities(gee mister.. is your elephant depressed?) but they didn't work after a while. A 9mm relieved the stress permanently.
Got a job at a (failing) transmission shop. Did the manuals that confused the owner. Learned why my previous automatics hadn't worked. Learned why his current ones didn't. Captain Comeback went under. Moved to some hell-hole in Nevada and haven't heard from him since.
My buddy the dent guy had moved to a little hick town in the middle of bfe Oregon somewhere in there, to take care of his aging parents.
Got a job at a place that did trucks and motorhomes and diesel stuff. Pointed one of those handheld infrared thermometers at the wall behind my toolbox one day and it read 142f. Found plenty of other reasons why the place always had an ad in the paper. Screw Jeff and the cactus he rode in on.
Took some more A.S.E. tests. Added an 'Advanced Level' and 'Engine Machinist - Cylinder Head' cert. to my Recertified Master Auto Tech.. Could have passed the Engine Machinist - Assembly easily and probably the Machinist - Cylinder Block as well; but I thought a Master Machinist should have actually bored a cylinder at some point.
My old buddy the dent guy called one day - the guy that ran the shop in the next little hick town needed competent help, as in desperately. I put enough stuff in storage to rent the house.
Randomly decided to try a new road on a test drive one day. It doesn't go anywhere, but, about halfway out I'm thinking a person could live out here and then the place at the end of the road has a sign on it. A big garage to pile my junk in, a house for eat sleep tv bathroom, and a shop to live in. Sell old house there buy old house here.
Damned knee started to hurt like hell one day so I told John I'd be back when it felt better. After a week or so he was wondering when I was going to pick up my tools. oh well.
Never liked pickups with cow stuff anyway.
Tired of other peoples F@#%ED UP CARS!
Tired of the people with F@#%ED UP CARS!
Tired of the grubby trucks.
Tired of the motorhomes where the grubby parts are right next to the fuzzy interior parts.
After 31 years of fixing other peoples sick neglected machinery for their pennies and curses I have just about had enough.
Catch breath..
There have been warm fuzzy moments. The gratitude of a rescued damsel-in-distress. Curing the problem that the 15 techs in 6 shops couldn't. Getting parts cheap. Being told that this guy just putts the car and it loads up so go blow it out real good and it's an R5 Turbo II..
The flat rate books all say to add time for rust and grime, but the boss never does. Bolts don't break because they are rusty but because you broke them. When the customer comes to pick the car up at 5:25 and you're still drilling out broken bolts.. Guess what? That's your fault too.
If you are like most of the guys that I knew back then, the only thing more interesting than cars and bikes was pu$$y. I don't hear anyone suggesting med school and a gyno practice to make a career of pu$$y. For the same reason you don't want to work on cars. Put enough diseased ones in your face every day and you just might lose interest in either.
My vote would be - (1)get educated - ALL THE SCHOOLING YOU CAN STAND AND THEN SOME - then keep learning (2)get a job that will pay well enough to - (3)ENJOY machinery as a HOBBY!
The Service is a valid option. The wet-nosed kid that I met a decade ago is a Staff Sergeant now - crewchief of his very own E-3 Sentry. It doesn't fly unless he says so. In another 10-12 years he can retire with a pension and benefits.. then get a cushy job with any airline. The Army may be in Iraq, but Junior's in Alaska. They pay for college too.
Somebody mentioned apprenticeship. Electricians make a fortune without getting real grimy. Dave's kid went that route a few years ago. Just got one heckuva ski boat. paid cash.
An uncle developed snapshots in a camera shop to pay for college. The engineering degree didn't mean much during a career as an electrician, but it comes in handy playing with Formula cars now that he's rich.
Pop was always fascinated by crawly seaside critters.. started college in the '50s.. and never left. Taught marine biology at C.C. for 40 years and retired with a fat pension. Buys new cars and the dealer changes the oil.
I have never gotten a job by filling an application. I get the job, then fill the app so they have paper with address and phone#.
Anyhow, it's your life.. do as you must.. just remember.. THIS IS NOT A DRESS REHEARSAL!
I think there was a lesson in there somewhere.
Epilogue..
Eric doesn't do bodywork anymore. Carpal tunnel from all the hammering and bad knees from the concrete shop floors. He has a store where he sells paint and supplies and tools and such to the local body shops. Wants me to put up a website to cover a larger area.
There's an old saying.. Those who can - do. Those who can't - teach. Those who can't teach - sell... and it goes on from there.
I'm tired of the doing. Not qualified for teaching. Maybe it's time to try selling. Maybe I'll start right now. Here goes..
Howdy folks! Thinking about a Kandy paint job? Does your local House of Kolor dealer charge 400% of list price? Does he answer your tech questions with a blank stare and 'I dunno - read the manual.'? Does he sell you a box of random stuff with an 'Oh sure, this all works' and then blame compatibility issues on you? Sound Familiar?
We're different. Yes, really.
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Well, did that work?
I wasn't totally kidding.
Need some paint? sandpaper? a spray booth?
Call Tinbender's in Redmond. Tell them Mark sent you.
Happy trails!
(I've changed some names to protect the guilty, others because they were too long, and left some alone)