Working All Right...

In this photo dated May, 1959 my dad works on a car. This was standard Saturday morning activity if a hunting or fishing trip was not on the agenda. Given the fact that I was about 16 months old at the time which is old enough to show some interest but not old enough to effectively participate you can easily see that I am no where near the action in this photo. Later on as I became old enough to assist in these projects, to a teen with plans and pursuits of his own these weekend work days seemed unending. I did learn some of the basics of auto mechanics which as a young man enabled me to do simple maintenance projects and occasionally bigger chores such as changing water pumps, starters and once a transmission. 

When I had kids I am not sure I was able to pass these things along as well as I should. For one thing cars became harder to work on. I have a mechanic I have used for 30 plus years and sometimes I have a problem and I take it to him he says "can't fix it, only the dealer can." Also as I became more affluent I had better cars and modern cars lasted better, ran better and you had info available to help you pick the  most trouble free. I do recall one incident where me and my son Morgan, who must have been about 4 at the time worked on a car. 

I have often written about the Oldsmobile Delta ""Rocket 88"" I owned. It was a 1984 model and that year was one of the last for great long American iron cars. Something I bought as a single man, a last gasp of independence and the next thing I knew I was driving a washing machine. That's another story though and if Morgan was 4 I am going to guess the year as 1992. 

Seems something had gone wrong under the dashboard of this great machine. I don't remember exactly what. Maybe the cassette player had become disconnected or the cigarette lighter had shorted out, things that just could not be allowed to fall into disrepair. I was on my back in the floorboard of the drivers side, plenty of room to lay down and ponder an upside down world of what's what when my son asked, "Are we working, dad?" 

My reply to this was, and I don't think I can convey the appropriate tone on the printed page, Yes, we are working all right." I continued to lay on my back and I heard Morgan's sisters, Rose and Katherine approach. They said "What are ya'll doing?" Morgan answered for us. "We working all right!" 

I don't recall the outcome of this work, if the problem was fixed, made worse of if I was forced, in these old dark days before google and YouTube to seek professional help of some sort. I do know that in the eyes of a child the work was "All right."