Kickin' Rocks

by Don Pennington

Lightning Bushes and Burning Bolts...It's All Backwards

As we go along, life's nasty rules keep jumping up, usually after we get bludgeoned in a bad deal or hammer tattooing that finger for the eighteenth time, or not paying any attention when the old man said..."kid, never put the grinder face down on the bench"... what does he know?... leave me alone... I know stuff about tools!  He seldom said where he got those lively tales of life, I assume he felt (as I do now) that everything that is worth saying was good enough to be included in the Big Hot Rod Book of Life.  After I untangled the grinder from my favorite t-shirt (damn it) and the stitches came out I began to realize that ignoring these platitudes sometimes resulted in yet one more unfortunate trip to the emergency room. Another time he said something about watching what I as doing.... I always thought that was just his way of pitchin' on my work, since I had long been convinced that I was real smart for my age, and really didn't need his opinion.... on anything!  This rule is especially valuable when swinging a 5 pound sledge at a chisel... I just looked up for a second.  Ouch!  It wouldn't have been so bad, but we were outside popping rivets off a ‘32 frame in 10 degree weather!  I think he also said something about gloves, but only punks wore gloves.  Every time I look at that scar I am reminded never to work outside in the winter, chiseling rivets is okay as long it is at least 70 degrees... in the shop and the TV is on Sesame Garage (wouldn't that be great show?).

These little sayings are everywhere, they are like background music in a movie... or your wife, you don't really notice them until they are gone! Akin to these rules of hot rod building are things, stupid things, that we have done that keep coming back to us as at the strangest times, things that still make you call yourself idiot.  Somewhere years ago I was sitting in on a meeting with a business agent for the electricians we were waiting for others to arrive and were shooting the... passing the time of day... and I commented that it's interesting how people seem to look like their dogs and you can tell a lot about them by the car they drive  (I should have pre-thought that since at the time I was driving a Pinto wagon with flames... on one side, another life axiom... finish what you start). This guy was an argumentative type, I think you have to be that way to be a union business agent, and immediately asks what I meant by that. Now... being a young pup, I wasn't smart enough to see the set-up coming, so I charged ahead full speed... "well, look at the way people with Ramblers drive, old dodgy people always driving too slow and always in the way".  I am sure you can guess what his response to this piece of worldly insight was..." I drive a Rambler" came the indignant response. Well, did I feel stupider than normal!  There was no fixing this one.  I have become very good at back pedaling, or like that Richard Gere guy did in the movie Chicago, tap dance to give yourself time to think of something or exit as gracefully as possible.  I still can't look a Rambler straight in the grill.

Learning life's rules takes a lifetime. That combined with "youth is wasted on the young" might make one question Devine priorities, or at least the order of things. Maybe the 10 big rules on the stone tablets are backwards, I'll bet that is what started this mess. I see it now, Moses is coming down the hill (big bush smoldering in the background), when he stubs his toe on a small rock (another one of life's rules, watch out for the small rocks) drops the tablets, but quickly picks them up before anyone can see (another thing you do to minimize the red faced moments), but they are upside down. Rather than appear inept he just read them in that order, "number ten is... no I mean number one...". From that day on, the rules I suspect are backwards. We should be born wrinkly and get better as time goes on. Think about it, some of life's first time experiences, especially those done with one other person, would be so much better having already had a life of memories before the actual experience, in some of the more unfortunate cases you might not ever actually do the experience because of the memories. You would only need to build one car, the last one... first, or the first one, whichever, no need for school or a bunch of other stuff. We have all been intrigued by a time machine, going into the future and looking around, coming back to embark on a new career as the grand predictor, for a fee of course. But under this new format we would go back, but could only bring back new-old bones and rocks, but who needs more rocks?

The items in The Big Hot Rod Book of Life would be accompanied with lightning and a burning bush, so you would know they are worth paying attention to and won't go by unnoticed. In the early days when you were in the garage banging away on the latest project, visitors were sure to show up. Some are worker bees willing to lend a hand, get a little dirty, chisel out a few rivets, while others are there just to watch. You can usually tell the difference right off, the workers have workers clothes on and the watchers have shiny shoes and freshly Mommy pressed peggers (that's what some old guys I came across called dress pants... way back when). The workers are grinding and drilling and smacking metal, making noise... noise in the immediate area of a hot rod project is required. The clean guys stand around, hands in pockets, waiting for the right time in between the noise, to lay down one of their whitisms or to inject... "well if I as doing that I'd...." . Timing is important to these guys, there is nothing worse than being interrupted in the middle of what you are convinced is a life transforming edict, one that everyone should stop what they are doing and listen to! These guys cannot give you any rules for hot rod life, so if Mr. Clean Jeans offers a bit of what he thinks is wisdom, you may want to question it's value. Life's rules are important, but not when coming from these guys, besides they haven't lived long enough to qualify as a Journeyman Wisdomite. The things learned in those early years just weren't worth spit unless they were accompanied with some blood or a chunk of skin. Few of us understood that the old guys, the guys in their 20s, actually could be of help. Anyone older than that clearly was feeble and must be confused or something, unless we turning things around.

With Moses' little toe stub in place, we would be born with all life's experiences and smashed fingers and skin chunks behind us. We could go through life not needing the old man, or school, or real experiences, it would all be done the day we arrived, how cool would that be, knowing what was going to happen before we did it!  This predictability would also let us would know when your last hot rod cruise would be, how many Bonneville records you would set and what day you got in the 2 Club... or not.  Instead of being 40 or 50 or.... you would be 30 then 20 then 10 and soon 3, 2, 1 ...poof.  Wouldn't that be much more fun?

Kick a Rock.

DP