New Cool from an Old School!
It started so long ago I can't remember the exact date, but I do remember lying in my dad's garage curled up on an old bench seat from an old Ford pickup that was stuffed in the corner; a left-over remnant from an old project re-purposed as a shop couch. I was covered up with an old greasy Carhartt jacket while the wood stove puffed out a little heat now an then. Hank Williams Jr. belted out "A Country Boy Can Survive" from some old Kraco speakers that dangled from coat hangers on the paint cabinet. The rattle of an air gun coupled with the clanging of wrenches and the plethora of new cuss words filled my ears. I was eight years old.
That's where it all started.... Where my schooling began. My teachers were some of the best. Charlie, Don, Bill, Joe and many others.
Charlie, my Dad. I suppose he should be considered the Superintendent. He took the time to make sure I got a quality education, provided the necessary resources, tools and counseling, and taught me the importance of making things work and making them last. I owe a debt of gratitude to him for showing me how having a little means a lot.
Don Hart, my Dad's best friend. He would be in charge of the comedy club. With a wealth of knowledge obtained by doing as well as reading, he taught me perseverance..... if it doesn't fit.... build it so it does. And make sure you have fun doing whatever it is that you're doing. One must have WIT as well as WISDOM!
Bill Hale...."Wild Bill" gave me my first ride on a Harley. A trike as it was. On the rear wheels and wheelie bars for three blocks to the store on the top of the hill.... and back with a case of Black Label on my lap. Bill was an eccentric man. Interesting for a young kid to listen to. He had an eye for creating concepts and laying down some bad-ass paint jobs.
Joe Bennett... "Papa Joe". He took a 16 year old kid and made a racer out of him. He saw the passion in me and gave me opportunities that were otherwise out of my grasp. I learned that there is a process, procedure and a proper way to do things.
Everything I learned, I learned from the Old Crew. The teachers from the Old School. They ARE the old school. Although Don and Bill are gone now, may God rest their souls, I pledge to carry on the lessons learned. I am privileged to be able to continue to learn from My Dad and Joe and it prides me to have the ability to pass along all those lessons to my kids and fuel the next generation.
....... CLASS DISMISSED!
It started so long ago I can't remember the exact date, but I do remember lying in my dad's garage curled up on an old bench seat from an old Ford pickup that was stuffed in the corner; a left-over remnant from an old project re-purposed as a shop couch. I was covered up with an old greasy Carhartt jacket while the wood stove puffed out a little heat now an then. Hank Williams Jr. belted out "A Country Boy Can Survive" from some old Kraco speakers that dangled from coat hangers on the paint cabinet. The rattle of an air gun coupled with the clanging of wrenches and the plethora of new cuss words filled my ears. I was eight years old.
That's where it all started.... Where my schooling began. My teachers were some of the best. Charlie, Don, Bill, Joe and many others.
Charlie, my Dad. I suppose he should be considered the Superintendent. He took the time to make sure I got a quality education, provided the necessary resources, tools and counseling, and taught me the importance of making things work and making them last. I owe a debt of gratitude to him for showing me how having a little means a lot.
Don Hart, my Dad's best friend. He would be in charge of the comedy club. With a wealth of knowledge obtained by doing as well as reading, he taught me perseverance..... if it doesn't fit.... build it so it does. And make sure you have fun doing whatever it is that you're doing. One must have WIT as well as WISDOM!
Bill Hale...."Wild Bill" gave me my first ride on a Harley. A trike as it was. On the rear wheels and wheelie bars for three blocks to the store on the top of the hill.... and back with a case of Black Label on my lap. Bill was an eccentric man. Interesting for a young kid to listen to. He had an eye for creating concepts and laying down some bad-ass paint jobs.
Joe Bennett... "Papa Joe". He took a 16 year old kid and made a racer out of him. He saw the passion in me and gave me opportunities that were otherwise out of my grasp. I learned that there is a process, procedure and a proper way to do things.
Everything I learned, I learned from the Old Crew. The teachers from the Old School. They ARE the old school. Although Don and Bill are gone now, may God rest their souls, I pledge to carry on the lessons learned. I am privileged to be able to continue to learn from My Dad and Joe and it prides me to have the ability to pass along all those lessons to my kids and fuel the next generation.
....... CLASS DISMISSED!