1.28.2006

Elves and Blowtorches.

”Why is your father under your car?”

I looked up from checking my e-mail and trying to get a stubborn DVD to play. I'd just woken up, my eyes still not fully open, and my mother was posing a very odd question. I stumbled past her down the hallway to the kitchen, looked out, and there was a 75-year-old man lying on concrete underneath my jacked-up automobile. The sun shone brightly in the 11 AM sky, and it seemed like yet another unseasonably pleasant day.

As far back as I can remember, having a mechanic for a father has been both a blessing and a curse. Cars last a long time in our family, and the bulk of our automotive expenses has gone toward parts. There would be times my mom would get frustrated when he'd spend hours working on a friend's car in the driveway. We never had a garage, though our driveway terminates at a slab of concrete big enough to build a two-car garage on. My dad always wanted one; my mom feared he'd do a lot more side work. The result of their stubbornness was that he did the work anyway, even in the rain, and we'd always have two or three cars to clean snow off of in the Winter.

Among my dad's gifts thrived uncanny diagnostic and preventative abilities. He took such good care of vehicles that the moment they so much as sounded different, he was under the hood fixing or replacing something. Air was always in the tires, the gas tank never dropped below 1/4, and oil was changed three-four times a year. In a way, it always reminded me of the tale of the shoemaker and the elves. Just as the shoemaker would wake up to find his shoes fixed by unseen helpers, the same was true of my cars. When I started driving, I never had to think about motor oil or transmission fluid. To be honest, even now I forget to check, because deep down I know he already has. It's not a good comfort zone for an adult to be in, and something I need to work on.

One night this week, I'd made a casual comment about my car sounding a little louder. I didn't think anything of it, and my dad said I probably just needed a new muffler soon. Yesterday the car sounded fine, and I chalked it up to the weather being warmer than the day it sounded loud. But this morning, seeing that it was a nice day, he decided to investigate further. My muffler, which we only put in last year, was fine, but the intermediate pipe was rusted, hanging on by a thread of metal. Sooner rather than later, it would have broken off completely and I'd have heard metal scraping on the pavement. My dad said we could get a new pipe and put it in today, or I could wait a few weeks for it to fall off. It was one of those life-lesson choices, not a choice at all really, unless I was a complete idiot. I of course chose to put in the new part.

Replacing something on a car, especially an old one, is never an easy process. In theory, one would expect it to be simple. Unscrew a few bolts. Take out the old part. Put in the new one. Tighten some bolts. Drive. My mom never understood how he'd estimate an hour or two and end up spending a day working on one of his friend's cars. I didn't understand it either, even when I started doing more than handing him wrenches. Time was, he'd be stubborn and refuse to listen to my suggestions or stop to think of a different approach. Many was the time hammers, hacksaws, and fire were employed to defeat a rusted, stripped bolt. Today we faced two such bolts, but his hands aren't what they once were, and he's more inclined to listen to my suggestions and let me crawl under there instead. It still takes some persuasion, but there's a lot less yelling involved. It took a combination of physics and teamwork to remove those bolts. He braced the whole pipe from turning while I employed a pipe over the wrench to create a lever. I can exert more force now, but it wasn't enough. “Let me get the torch!” He insisted after the pipe slipped a third time. I told him that was insane. We were inches from the gas tank, and he'd just sprayed the bolt with highly flammable penetrating oil. “That will only be on fire for a minute. The metal needs heat to expand--this is how the guys DO it. Will you trust me? I've been doing it for years!” He always goes for the torch, but surprisingly, today, he gave way to reason, and the sound of that first bolt budging was a great sound indeed. The second bolt was a little tougher since it was completely stripped, and I needed a vise to hold one end while I turned the other. I became so focused on the task today, I didn't even think about my childhood fear of having a car fall on me. At one point I was completely under the car, using one leg to hold the pipe up while my hands worked the bolt from both sides. The hard part was over once the second bolt came off, and putting the new pipe on proved much easier.

Earlier in the week, my friend Rey was sharing thoughts on parenting and belief with another college friend soon to be a first-time father. He spoke about weighing whether or not to talk about Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, and other fictitious characters with children. There's a difference between belief and make-believe, and as a Christian he pondered the difference between God and these characters. At some point children are told, “this story was made up, and this one, but this one was true,” and there are definite flaws with that approach. There is no Santa Claus, and there are no elves, but parents are real, there to shelter us as well as guide and teach us. I'm a long way from being a mechanic myself, and I wish I'd paid attention as a kid instead of moping about missing cartoons while I handed my dad tools. I'm glad I'm finally at the point where, if he tells me what to do, I can do the heavy stuff instead of having my old man exert himself. Hopefully, I'll eventually get to a point where I can diagnose as well as repair simple problems. And I'll never use a blowtorch.

8 Comments:

Blogger Janet said...

If I ever have kids I want them to believe in Santa and all that stuff, but only to a point. We have a friend whose son is in 5th grade and he still is a hardcore believer. At that point, on the verge of entering junior high, I think you're doing the kid an injustice not to tell them the truth.

1/29/2006 10:22 AM  
Blogger kevbayer said...

My kids have never "believed in" Santa Claus or the Easter Bunny or whatever. We never made a big deal of them. Those characters are more like celebrities to them.

1/29/2006 7:59 PM  
Blogger Jerry Novick said...

Janet - why should some fictional voyuer get credit for bringing presents to good little boys and girls when in reality it is their hardworking parents who are sacrificing their own cash to provide gifts - extra gifts above and beyond the roof over their heads, food, clothing and all of the other stuff they get year round - for their children?

Seems to me that the kid should learn from the beginning that the real heroes are their very own mom and dad.

1/29/2006 9:29 PM  
Blogger MCF said...

Jerry, I have to disagree with you, at least on the "credit" aspect. Parents are heroes for the sacrifices they make that go UNappreciated, at least until their kids are adults. Buying gifts isn't the same as buying love, nor should it be. As an adult, the sacrifices my parents made are more memorable than any toy they bought me. They drove me places, paid for schools, taught me right from wrong, and more substantial things.

I like Kev's approach. They should be treated as fun characters like any other cartoon. It's just a part of growing up and having a childhood. As Janet pointed out, this shouldn't go on for too long though.

Kids will never understand their parents' heroics, nor will they appreciate them as teenagers. That's just the natural cycle of things. As an adult, I look back and say "wow, they've done a lot for me!" not "wow, they bought a lot for me!", even though both are true.

1/29/2006 10:15 PM  
Blogger Jerry Novick said...

Sorry, MCF - there is just no good reason to give a fictional character credit for something that a parent or friend or real person - even if they are a stranger - does.

It amazes me that people are willing to use a fictional, commercial construct as a front - and even sometimes as a coercive tool - instead of teaching children that parents themselves do things for their children, things above and beyond meeting their basic needs of food and shelter.

1/30/2006 9:39 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Let's not think of this in only one aspect. There have been many times when I've taken the blame because Toys R Us is out of a popular toy and you parents wait until the last minute. I should take the credit, especially when I take the blame on your behalf as well. And another thing, enough with the milk, Jack Daniels makes Santa's ride a whole lot smoother. (Maybe there will be something under the tree for you too, if you catch my drift, hint, hint)

1/30/2006 12:54 PM  
Blogger MCF said...

I guess part of the problem is I'm not yet a parent myself, so I can only approach this issue from one side. As a kid it was a cute game, and on some level I knew. One year I sprinkled talcum powder in front of the fireplace to catch him, and my parents God bless them made footprints for me to find the next day. Another year they didn't put up any decorations and said Santa was bringing the tree etc. I stayed up and would not go to bed for the longest, and when I finally did they stayed up and did all the decorating for me to find the next morning. My mom told me years later she swore never to do THAT again.

I guess insofar as kids need to learn manners, to say "thank you", if that's your angle and not wanting persnonal credit then I have to agree with you. My mom always made me write thank you cards to my aunts and uncles, which was confusing in the beginning when we'd go to visit family and relatives would tell me "look what Santa left here for you". I think it can be a harmless game, especially if the kid knows on some level. Again, I have to defer to Kev's "celebrity" approach. Keep it a fun character and nothing more. I never believed in Spider-man, for example.

I was raised to believe good deeds were there own reward, that a selfless act requiring gratitude isn't selfless at all. I think that's why I initially disagreed with you, interpreting it from that standpoint. But as a parent that wants a child to grow up and be polite and say thank you to people, your stance is admirable. I was thinking about when I gathered with family recently, and how when we were all opening presents and my cousin's four year old boy gazed in wonder at the playmobil set he'd just opened, the father said, "that's from cousin MCF...what do we say?" and the kid mumbled a shy "thaaank you." I wasn't looking for it, didn't expect it, and would have been perfectly happy seeing his reaction and seeing him enjoy playing with the thing. But my cousin is RAISING the child, and being polite is one of many things a parent has to teach. If I ever become a parent myself, it's great that I have friends and family who've been there before. I would never think of some of these things otherwise.

1/31/2006 12:18 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Well said MCF, well said. A lot has been written here but it's important to underline the important parts: the Easter Bunny is not real and please, remember the Jack Daniels.

1/31/2006 8:53 AM  

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