I first started getting an interest in cars when I was 15 years old. The idea of the freedom my own transport would allow was exciting and I had the good fortune of growing up in the Muscle Car era of the late ‘60s, early ‘70s. Copies of popular car enthusiast magazines of the day could be found anywhere in my house, often to the chagrin of my mom and dad. No, not the high end ones like Road and Track – I mean the ones that got a young man’s blood going, featuring asphalt-tearing big blocks and filled with articles on how to make those monsters even meaner.
It was easy in those days to know what kind of car was coming down the road, too. Exhaust notes were unique among the brands, front grill and headlight designs easily identified a Mustang from a Camaro, and the passing taillights also lent easy clues as to the kind of car that just passed you by. Not so much today, as the necessary streamlining and aerodynamic needs have made many cars almost carbon copies of one another.
At the time, the idea of being a mechanic (technicians didn’t exist back then) wasn’t even close to being on my radar. I actually enrolled in college shortly after graduating high school, and initially majored in criminal justice with a goal of one day becoming an FBI agent. I’ll continue my story after you in the back stop giggling…
While going to college, I decided to invest in a Honda CB350 motorcycle to make the commute on. My school was located in the city and parking was at a premium. Riding a motorcycle to school made it easier to park close to campus and turned out to be a lot of fun. It was a bigger extension of the small off-road bikes I grew up on. The bug bit so hard I decided to leave college and pursue a technical education in motorcycle mechanics, a decision that led me to fabulous Daytona Beach, Florida. The education in the classroom adequately prepared me for a future in the motorcycle repair field, and the education out of the classroom prepared me for a youth of debauchery and rowdiness. A lifestyle, I admit, I would have remained in had it not been for the birth of my first son.
I moved from the motorcycle side of the business and went into the car side by reason of sheer economics. Motorcycles in my home town were seasonal, and so was the work. That’s ok if you’re a single guy, or even a young couple starting out, but it doesn’t cut it for a family man.
The making of a car enthusiast
I often get asked questions related to the enthusiast side of this business that I must tell you go clear over my head. I know little about the classics and their histories, and I often sit in amazement as I listen in to conversations true car nuts have about loves of the past or arguments about which is better; the big block Chevy or the Chrysler Hemi (from back in the day, youngsters, not the current versions of either!). And then there are the techno-fans, the technicians of today that drool over conversations that involve scan tools and scopes. While I consider myself competent as a technician, these men and women are at the top of the game and I learn from each and every one of them. In fact, I share with everyone that attends any seminar I claim no responsibility for any of the lessons I’m passing along. It is my role with the magazine is to go out and collect knowledge from the best in the business and then share it with all of you. A goal I strive to meet daily, by the way.
Does that make me any less of a car enthusiast? I was pondering that question on the flight home from the latest industry event I had attended and I think the answer is “no.” More precisely, I would consider myself a “car repair enthusiast.”
To understand where that is coming from, I need to tell you a bit about my dad. My dad is a carpenter, trained in Europe in the old way, starting as an apprentice and working his way up. In those days, you weren’t considered a master anything until the existing masters (in your specialty) viewed your “masterpiece” and pronounced you as such. My father immigrated to the United States before he created his master piece and to this day will argue that he is still a journeyman, but seeing him work and having witnessed his creations, make no mistake – he’s any carpenter’s “Yoda”! I tried to follow in his footsteps but just didn’t have the same love for building that he had. But one lesson (of many) that has served me well was this - “Any man that can work with his hands will always be able to take care of his family.”
And that has held true for me. Over the last 40-plus years, the economy has gone up and down. There have been good times and bad times, inflation and recession, and through it all I’ve always been able to support my family by being a part of this business. But that is only one reason I made my living with a wrench in my hand. Another lesson I learned from my father was the importance of taking pride in what you do. In the summers I worked with him, I would see the pride he had each day, stepping back to see the building that was taking shape by his hand, a work that would be there for years to come, and he was adamant that every 2”x 4”, every piece of trim, every nail was installed and in place correctly. His trim work, for example, looked as if the accents in the room were made from one piece of wood with no seam visible. Many was the time he would make me rip out the work I had tried to perform and redo it because it didn’t meet his standard. And that would be easy to comprehend if we were building multi-million dollar homes but we weren’t. The cost of the final project made no difference to my dad – they all had his name associated with it and that was reason enough to do our best. It’s a commitment to quality shared by few today, it seems.
My enthusiasm for my chosen profession came from a similar source. I enjoyed taking a broken motorcycle or car and making it whole again. The satisfaction only grew when the challenge had been taken on by others who were unable to overcome the task. My personal mantra was always “If a man designed it and a man broke it, a man can fix it”, and I always refused to admit defeat – though on some occasions I did have my butt handed to me by a stubborn vehicle. Sometimes I spent more time on a problem car than I should have, actually losing money in the process but as I learned and matured, the time I had to spend finding a solution became less and less. Training played a big role in that, and with the advent of the Internet, learning resources became more readily available. Today, there is no reason any technician should settle at being less than the best he or she can be as more and more trustworthy sources of information and training becomes available to all.
I’ve been beaten, bruised and bled by this business over the last four decades yet I still get that electric tingle when the lights come on and I’ve figured out another tough problem. The challenges don’t come to me as often as they used to, stuck behind a desk as I am most of the time today. But I’m not complaining, for now I get to pay back to an industry that has treated me, overall, pretty damn well, by passing along not only what I’ve learned but by bringing some of the brightest trainers and technicians to you via the pages of this magazine, our online efforts, and of course, Automechanika Chicago – a combination world quality trade show and equally high ranked training event that we look forward to presenting again in July 2017. I really look forward to seeing you all there very soon.
