“Thing-ama-gig, wha-ch-ama-call-it, aaaaaaaaah shiiii...........it!” These are terms used to fix a car. Standing in the freezing cold, holding a flashlight as my dad looked under the hood for the reason my sister's car won't start . “AAAAAAH-SHIT-” came when dad found the trouble - no gas. As smart as my oldest sister was, she always thought there was plenty of gas in the car, even when the gas gauge read empty.
My Dad always had the things needed to get a car fixed. At 20 degrees below zero I was taught how to siphon gas out of a car. My sister's car fixed, it was a long and silent ride home. Mom always greeted us with hot chocolate. Dad and I took off our boots in the basement, hung our coats and pants on the basement wash line, and warm, fresh pants were hung next to the furnace. Dad went straight to his chair in the living room with his hot chocolate and grabbed the paper to finish his crossword puzzle. It was late, so I had a quick sip of hot chocolate, then right up to bed.
When my sister's car broke down while at college it was chain and rope time. I was told to watch the brake lights on dad's car and ease on the brakes in my sister's car. This tow was done late at night after my dad came home from his second job. Going to college was very important to my parents, so fixing cars was a must at our house. Never bother dad when he was under the hood or under the car. When Mr. Feltes grabbed me and dragged me home for beating up his three sons I knew both Mr. Feltes and I were in big trouble... Dad was under the hood when we reached my house. Dad told Mr. Feltes he would take care of it, but Mr. Feltes wanted something done right away. Dad walked Mr. Feltes down our driveway telling him he would take care of things, and it was then I saw Mr. Feltes feet were not touching the ground. Dad and all my uncles were big men. Dad returned to the car, later, after dinner, he called me to his chair where he listened to my side of the story. "Just walk away next time," he said, picking up the paper and a pen for the crosswords. Fighting was strictly forbidden. Had Mr. Feltes taken me to mom, I would have received a wack or two with the yardstick.
To teach me about cars, dad had me take a car completely apart. Uncle Bill, on my mom's side of the family, was a bit shady. He got us a car, but never came up with the title. So when it was time to get plates dad couldn’t and so he also couldn’t drive it on the street. After waiting months for a title to turn up, dad decided to teach me about cars and tools. My job was to take the car completely apart, so all of it would fit in a 50 gallon trash barrel for hauling to the junkyard. Every bit of that car was taken apart and cut up for the junkyard or the dump. Tin snips and hacksaw for the body, wrenches and hammers for just about everything else. Learn how to drain the oil completely out and clean up the cement from the oil I missed. Putting a pipe on a wrench and tapping things with a sledgehammer persuaded stuck nuts that I meant business. Removed the windshield and glass from the doors , and the hacksaw took care of the roof. The engine block, pistons, drive shaft, axels all taken apart. Did I learn about cars? Well, these days I learn the phone number of a good mechanic. I did learn what tool dad wanted when he sent me for that thing-ama-gig though.
Much later in life, I had the value of making my own panels, making and gold leafing frames , and preparing canvas. Dad, in his way, had taught me the value of knowing everything about art. David Leffel may have shown me how to prepare a panel and gold leaf frames, but it was dad who taught me to learn from the best. Richard Schmid took me through stretching and preparing linen canvases. I remember dad inspecting my paint brushes once when I was home for a visit. He inspected the stretcher bars I was using and how hot I got the glue before applying it to the raw canvas. Dad liked knowing things, he had read up on everything I'd learned in New York. He knew everything there was about preparing canvases and panels before I had even gotten home from my lessons with David Leffel and Richard Schmid. The older I get the more I realize what Mom and Dad did for us kids.
