He was just a plain old Midwestern farmer. No frills. No glitz. No excess conversation. He taught me everything I know about basic mechanics. But somehow he went even beyond that. He taught me how to APPROACH mechanics. How to look at a broken machine. How to analyze it. How to figure out how it was "supposed" to work. And then how to fashion a means to fix it. He taught me how to invent things. How to create things out of a pile of scrap. How to make something...where there had been nothing.
From the time I could first walk I followed him around in his shop as he overhauled tractors, welded up the combine, customized the hay baler, and invented mechanical wonders. For years I simply watched. Then slowly, a bit here and a bit there, he let me lend a hand, guiding a coaxing my every step.
When I was ten he helped me build my first go-kart. When I was 13 he let me buy my first motorcycle, a Jawa 125. When I was 15 he took me to pick out my first car, a '55 Plymouth. And from 16 on, he helped me pull motors, overhaul engines, weld frames, fashion bodies, and build suspensions for a never ending parade of broken down old cars I would tow home with a logging chain and a dream. Some got hauled down to the back woods where they were given their last rites. Some got half finished and sold. And a couple even got turned into pretty nice hot rods.
He was my dad and my hero. He died peacefully on Monday morning at the age of 93. But I know he lives on in every nut I tighten, every seam I weld, every engine I fire, and every hot rod I build.
I'll be gone from the forum for a few days to take care of his final affairs. If you get a chance, blip your engine a couple extra times when you start it up the next couple of days. Woody would get a kick out of that.
Dewey
From the time I could first walk I followed him around in his shop as he overhauled tractors, welded up the combine, customized the hay baler, and invented mechanical wonders. For years I simply watched. Then slowly, a bit here and a bit there, he let me lend a hand, guiding a coaxing my every step.
When I was ten he helped me build my first go-kart. When I was 13 he let me buy my first motorcycle, a Jawa 125. When I was 15 he took me to pick out my first car, a '55 Plymouth. And from 16 on, he helped me pull motors, overhaul engines, weld frames, fashion bodies, and build suspensions for a never ending parade of broken down old cars I would tow home with a logging chain and a dream. Some got hauled down to the back woods where they were given their last rites. Some got half finished and sold. And a couple even got turned into pretty nice hot rods.
He was my dad and my hero. He died peacefully on Monday morning at the age of 93. But I know he lives on in every nut I tighten, every seam I weld, every engine I fire, and every hot rod I build.
I'll be gone from the forum for a few days to take care of his final affairs. If you get a chance, blip your engine a couple extra times when you start it up the next couple of days. Woody would get a kick out of that.
Dewey
