Wednesday, March 11, 2009

You think you're pretty smart


Snake will hopefully fill in some details on this one, because it's a great story when he tells it. Snake was, I'm guessing, a sophomore in high school, probably 5'9", 120. My dad was working on a car, it might even have been the Datsun 280-Z of Farquar fame, and he needed some help. He had to get to a really tight spot underneath the engine to replace something structural on this car. In order to do this he had rigged a chain around the engine, yes the whole engine, that ran through a pulley. The idea was that Snake would lift this 800 pound engine into the air while my dad worked on replacing the part, his head position for certain death should his youngest son prove not up to the task. Anyway, I actually wish I could have seen the expression on Snake's face when he heard dad say, "You hold this engine up ... " I mean, you thought giving him the wrong size socket was a capitol offense? Try death and/or complete cranial dismemberment. At his most bitter moment I think I've heard Snake refer to this as a missed opportunity.

3 comments:

Ojo Rojo said...

What about the slippage and that knowing moment that passed between them when they both knew that Snake held Dad's life in his hands?

llogg said...

Yeah, I had forgotten that detail.

Snake Diggity said...

LMAO! This one is like a fish story; it started off as a nice trout, but by this point it's a blue marlin.

So, when I was in high school, dad helped out Jackie F. by buying his shitty 1979 Dahtsun 280Z. I think it was equal parts charity, mid-life crisis, and father-son project. Looking back, as with a lot of shit with dad, had he just had a little patience, it would have been an awesome thing. I mean, father and son re-building an old sports car? That should be awesome! It wasn't. It was night after night of dreading hearing the garage door open, meaning dad was on his way inside to fetch his Toby.

For some reason, dad did all the body work before doing any of the engine work. So, we were months in to the request-belittle-endupdoingityourself cycle. After essentially building a body from scratch out of Bond-o, we had done a few things to the engine. Now it was time for the major mechanical work. I don't even remember what part we were working on. Dad had rigged up this chain, around the engine, which went up and attached to a rope, which went over the garage rafter and into my feeble hand.

I don't know exactly why I was having to hold it, I mean, why not just tie the other end off? I guess maybe he was trying to position the whole thing, so he needed the engine to be moveable.

Regardless, as soon as I followed him to the garage and saw the setup, I was like "oh fuck me." He's like "ok, now you hold this engine up, while I'm going to get under there and fix shit. Don't let go boy."

Hilarious. Wince, sobb, tear.