Darrell Daniels and his son Nick rolled up to the shop about noon today.
I stumbled around pretending to know what I was doing whilst Chief Daniels picked up my 1965 bus and flipped her upside down, whereupon son Nick plucked out the starter. After cluck-clucking and shaking of heads they removed the failed solenoid, installed a replacement and plugged it back in. Another flip and the bus was back on her feet, eager to start at the twist of a key.
"Anything else?"
I waved my cane at the front wheels and their recalcitrant brakes. Quicker than instanter, which is faster than a speeding bullet, the front brakes were bled to the point where stomping on them caused the old bus to stop on a dime and give you eight cents in change.
"Anything else?"
"Windows?" I asked hopefully.
The father-son team shared a smile then Nick shook his head. "Sorry. We don't do windows." And down the hill they roared.
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I don't know Chief Warrant Officer Daniels from the man in the moon. I'd already retired from the Navy by the time he decided to join and that was nearly thirty years ago. But Darrell owns a Volkswagen, lives just twenty freeway minutes away and has heard I was pissing & moaning about how having cancer makes you weak as a cat and unable to maintain your daily driver. So he gave me a call, asked if he might be of any use.
So here's my heart-felt thanks to a fellow sailor and his team-mate son, Nick.
-Bob Hoover