History was made

[Thomas R Hansen <trandco1@xxxxxxxx>]

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 When I was about 12 or 13, I wanted to help my Dad with the car. He
would pull the '63 Plymouth up on the grass, at the end of the driveway,
to change the oil. Get out the bumper jack, raise the car until the wheel
would just about be off the ground, and crawl under. It seemed so hard
for him to get down, then back up because he had the wrong size wrench,
or waiting on the oil to drain, or go get the grease gun. He was 6'5 and
it was a long way down to the ground. I used to crawl up under the car to
watch, and listen to him curse under his breath. After a while, I asked
if I could do the job, I had watched enough times, and just knew I could
do it. He MIGHT have stood there the first two times I changed the oil.
He would always ask if I tightened the drain plug enough. He would never
double check me, he didn't want to crawl under there again.    
  At that time I became the family mechanic. We lived in north east Ohio,
and Dad had always bought used Chrysler products because they were cheap.
The "rust belt" was hell on cars. He would always complain about the
wiring problems with the cars. "Must be imported Japanese wires, and
can't handle the American voltage"  I  made it my crusade to determine
the reason every  problem that came up had a cause. Bad ground was the
most common. He still would curse the car's problems, but turn around and
buy another Chrysler product.  Our back yard was about one acre, and it
got mowed just like the rest of the yard. That was the "proving ground"
for any oil leaks after an oil change. THAT was enough to keep me
interested! Any 14 year old kid that could drive a real car around a lot
that big, was in hog heaven. 
 I did end up taking Auto Shop in high school, and my Dad loved not
having to take any cars to a garage for minor repairs. I tried to fix
more than I broke, and Dad had a pretty good sense of humor.     I miss
him.

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