I feel like I've been through so much that I don't know where to start.
My dad was has been a Fuller Brush man for 50 years. Back in the day, He sold door to door in his own designated territory. He had regular customers. Since about the second or third grade my job was to go 2-3 days ahead of him and leave sale catalogs at every door step on a planned daily route. After school and on Saturdays. When I finished I would wait for him at a local park where he would pick me up on his way home. I got $5 for a 6 day week. But I had to put it into a piggy bank. I wasn't allowed to spend it. That sucked! Later, when I started driving, my job was to deliver the products his customers had ordered. After school and on Saturdays. I don't remember how much, but I got a humble percentage of the money collected. My dad was a workaholic, and honestly believed with all his heart that everyone else should be one too. I think the depression warped his head. He also owned a security company since before I was born. So as an adult I had to pull guard duties, uniformed and plain clothes, armed and unarmed. As time went on I inherited the position of guard supervisor, and found myself babysitting guards. I ran around at night in a marked vehicle with a radio (no cell phones then) putting out fires, settling disputes, and relieveing guards I found sleeping on the job, or doing something they're not supposed to be doing. That has to be probably the worst job I ever had. Fuller Brush eventually became a sideline for dad, and is now a mail order business with an 800 number. Not much happening there anymore. Dad is in his 80's now and grows a garden and doing his little farmers market hustle over near Bakersfield.
I got jobs working at machine shops, making all sorts of things. When I got out of the army I worked at Edlebrock machineing cast aluminium intake manifolds. I have made die sets for tool and die making, and I have made drilling equipment for off shore rigs. I always felt good about tinkering with cars and motorcycles. When I was 16 I started taking an automotive class at a local trade school. That's where I started doing cylinder head work. Through my late twenties and early thirties I was working on cars and bikes for people in the neighborhood as a hobby, which carried me through periods of unemployment. I developed a reputation working at home. I have been gainfully employed as an automobile technician since 1984, and obtained my first ASE certifications about 1986(?) With 26 years of ongoing education in this field. I decided I wanted to be a motorcycle mechanic, so I sold my shovelhed for a down payment on tuition to attend MMI in Phoenix, AZ. in 1988-89. I took the basic career course and moved on to the Harley Davidson factory elective. Graduated 2nd in the class with a final score of 96%. First was a 98%. Then I got attitude when I discovered that being a motorcycle mechanic was not all that lucrative. Thousands of dollars later, and a year of 19 hours days working and going to school and driving Phoenix traffic between the two, I qualified for a grunt position of minimum wage. So back to automotive I went. I could go anywhere in the country and make money doing that. Have tool box, will travel. I was invincable. These days, my hobby is turning into a chore with deadlines. Higher demands with lesser take home pay. I'm burning out. I'm getting tired. I'm seeing the talented gray beards with baggage being replaced by the younger, less talented, cheaper labor force. Maybe the "hope" and Change" have arrived? But I got a wife and kids, so what's a guy gonna do, y"know?
I took a break for a couple years and got a commercial license. I drove busses. I drove transit buss, and I drove charter buss. It was a welcomed break. Much needed. The most enjoyable job I've had in years was driving paratransit. The cutaway vans, transporting handicapped people to their programs, or to the store, elderly from assisted living to the doctor appointments-hospital, etc. Wheelchair lift, secureing wheelchairs in the vehicle. Some people were physically impaired, some were mentally impaired, some were both. I remember seeing some people who were so impared, they couldn't control muscle, druleing down their chest, snot running everywhere, and I couldn't understand what they were trying to tell me. I had an address to pick them up and an address to drop them off. They were my responsibilty in transit. I am a litteral 6 day creationist. I believe when God creates, He creates perfect and not without purpose or good reason. One day as I was transpoting this person who was one of the most extreme cases I can remember, keeping an eye on him in my mirror, I thought "God, what possible purpose can this person have on earth? Look at him? He is completely helpless! He can't even blow his nose! Why would you create such a person? Going with the thought that every life is important, I mean, what's the point?" And as clear as if it had come over the speakers of the radio, I heard "Well, right now I'm useing him to teach you how to serve others". That was quite an awakening for me. I came home an entirely different person that day. And that still has an effect on me today. I also learned that the special olyimpics is more than just an event. It is a tremendous accomplishment! Our savings dwindled as the pay was so low, and I had to leave that job eventually. So, now I'm back to fixing cars because that's what I do. And it seems that this economy might be changing my old stand-by. A lot more has happened in my life, but this is what I can fit into a nutshell this morning.
