I just watched my dad with amazement.

This is what fathers are for.

Many many years ago my brother, my dad, and me were all squatting on the garage floor with an old 1937 Ford engine taken apart. Parts were all over the floor and upon the work bench. Piston rings, pistons, rods, gaskets, engine heads, oil pans, etc. Parts on any available surface. The three of us were covered from hand to forehead with oil smudges. My dad borrowed a heavy chain hoist and we pulled out the engine, took it apart, replaced engine parts, hoisted it up again and dropped it back in to the old car engine compartment. My dad must have been a genius. He knew exactly what to do. How did he know how to fix such a thing? He never finished high school. Never went to mechanic school. But there it was. The car started and off it went. Happy Father’s Day Pops.

Published by OkieMan

I come from a family who migrated from the parched red dirt Plaines of southern rural Oklahoma. Migrating to blue collar working class community of East Los Angeles. There is where I was born. I am Mr. Writermelon. I can only write what my grammar and spell checker allows. I am neither profound nor profane. Boy howdy! Send comment to: Mr.writermelon@gmail.com

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