"Dad, I just bought a piano. Can you help me move it with your truck, or your trailer, or one of the myriad of moving menagerie that you own?"
"We don't have brawn," he deadpanned. "Let me think and I'll be over in a minute."
I returned to the garage sale site and patiently waited.
"My dad is coming."
"Just your dad?" the guy said.
"Yup, just my Dad." I responded with complete confidence. The guy is a product of a brighter age-- a guy who thinks the world needs whatever he thinks up next. He is always the inventor, trying to do it better. From backpacks, log splitters, diamond forging, to a better way to mold bronze, he has been there, built that and then tried to improve it.
We hear an engine laboring... what will it be, the ten-ton trailer he welded himself to move his heavy machinery? Or the RV he rebuilt from his half-ton dump truck? It could be the tool trailer he modeled from an old truck bed? I could hardly wait.
And Voila! Up he drives in Hogan. A 1972 International that still runs, and when it doesn't, it can still be fixed without computers.
Dad lowered the bucket down, tipped the piano in, tied it down and drove through town.
Drove right to my back door, tipped it up and he, my son, my nephew, and weak little me rolled it in.
ThAT, GUY, is, AMAZing!
If only my son could reignite the inventor mind that has been dumbed out of him by the monotony of public school and my poor parenting practices which failed to inspire greatness. I can only hope.
The world needs more inventive minds like my Dad's.
That's My Reality and Sometimes It Bites. And when it does, I write
12-9-13
12-9-13
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