Where do I start

Where do I start?

My earliest recollection of interest in the automobile was about age 4. My Dad was out in the driveway working on the family car and I was in the house bothering my Mother.

My Mother being the excellent cook was preparing our evening dinner. She told me “Your in the way, go out and help your father” so I did.

The front tire was removed and made an excellent place to sit and watch.  I seen my Dad taking the tools he needed from the toolbox and then laid them on the ground next to where he worked.  Alongside the car was a set of sockets in a green case. They were shiny and got my attention.  I tried a few of the sockets on the rear wheel lug nuts but none were anywhere large enough. I dropped one and it rolled under the car. I picked up another socket from the set and looked around.  I took it in my fingers like a marble and shoot it under the car as well.  There was a crack nearby in the concrete where some ants were traveling. The sockets made excellent rolling bombs to shoot at the ants.  Some of the smaller socket fell into the crack.  While being amused with the sockets I heard a loud voice from behind, it was my Dad. “Hey what the heck yah doing.” I jumped up and was startled.  After getting a few “What fours” he said pick them up and then sit over here and watch me. I now got my first lesson on working on cars.

As I was growing up I watched Stock car racing on a sports TV show called Wild World of Sports.  You only got to see one or two races a year so it was a big deal for me.  My Mom would make an early dinner of Fried Chicken and Potatoes Salad. I enjoyed those days tremendously.  

While in grade school I found a friend that like cars as much as I did and we always talked about car. My friends Dad worked on cars too so it was a natural to hang out at either one’s house to see what our dad’s were doing on a Saturday.

My Dad had raced Stock Cars in the past, but stopped when my sisters were born.  My sisters are a few years older then myself.  I remember seeing pictures of my Dad and his Stock Car in a scrapbook but he really never talked much about them.  I don’t know why I never asked about the pictures.  My friend Dad was a truck mechanic for a Ford garage.

When I was 8 years old my next experience with cars was building a go-kart with my Dad.  No one in my neighborhood had a go-kart, not even any of the kids I knew in school.  One Saturday in the early spring I went with my Dad to pick-up an engine. I remembering it being cold out and wearing a jacket. The guy at the lawnmower shop was kind to me explaining what type of motor oil I should use in my engine. I watched my Dad pay for the engine and thought to myself “That’s a lot of money.”

We got the engine home and my Dad exclaimed, “Would you like to hear it run!” You bet! I said. We mounted to the garage bench with some “C” clamps. My Dad wrapped the pull cord around the pulley and gave it a tug.  The engine went putt, putt, putt but didn’t start. We tried again but this time the engine wanted to pull loose of the clamps which were suppose to hold it down.  My Dad says, “Hold on to the engine and we will try her again.”  I did, but placed one hand on the spark plug.  He gave the pull cord a tug and I got instantly “Zapped” by the spark plug. The shock was the most unexpected thing and it frightened me. I would like to call this my second experience of working on cars.

Theses past years were a foundation to the next step. I’ll explain more in my next entry.