Even More google earth stuff.

It was about 28 years ago that I started working at my dad's frame and alignment shop. Well it was work /play. For parts of the summer, weekends, holidays, Christmas break etc.. I could be found working downtown in this grease pit doing things that most single digit aged children shouldn't be doing. The red arrow is my dad's shop.

I would pick up trash that would get blown into the fence, care for the guard dogs and shovel their shit, sweep, mop and run errands. All this for 50 cents an hour.

Since this was my only form of income, I didn't bitch in the least bit. Plus, how many eight year olds had complete, unsupervised access to oxy acetylene torches, MIG welders, dozens of wrecked cars, and all the tools and metal bits a kid could ask for.

Often I would be sent to pick up spare parts, supplies, lunch or whatever, This was not a nice part of town, bums, gangs, winos, weirdos, hookers and wild dogs would often block my path.

My dad wasn't worried so why should I be? I only got beat up, robbed, bitten or propositioned a couple of times so it was all good.

Most of the time people left me alone because for some reason after just a short time at the shop, my clothes would be tattered and I would be covered head to toe with grease.

I would be so ratty and black with grease that people would shake their heads at the poor dirty street urchin carrying a fan shroud for a 1973 El Camino.

It was fun and exciting though, and I got to meet really cool people. There was one wino who made his clothes from dead dogs and cats. He looked like a mountain man with all these crudely sewn together animal pelts strapped to his body. I would have thought he was a real mountain man if he wasn't drunkenly trying to lift his leg four feet in the air to step up on the curb.

Then there were the cholos in their low riders, I got to ride around with them from time to time. The furry dashboards, dingle balls all over the windows and the ability to hop from place to place was an experience in itself. I learned to do the cool handshake and say things like

"aaaaay ese whats up stupid pendejo" In english that is "Hello sir, how are you today?"

At lunch time dad and I would hop on his Suzuki 750 and ride over to Delalongas pizza joint. Dad was friends with the owner and we ate for free everyday. My dad would keep Steve's car fixed in exchange. Steve made the best baked Italian subs I ever had, even to this day. He must have sold his soul to be given the power to make sandwiches that good.

My dad and Steve would sometimes hang out and drink rum and cokes after lunch. I would be bored so I bused tables, and swept the floor while I waited. Steve would often hand me a pile of quarters so I could go over the the arcade across the street. That was like heaven.

Working with dad and his employees taught me many important life skills.

I learned to pop a rag so hard and effectively that I could knock the tabs off of a spark plug box without knocking it over.

I learned how much was in a lid and what it was supposed to cost.

I learned where babies came from.

I learned you didn't fill car tires to 150 psi (my ears are still ringing)

I learned to do body work and how to operate a frame straightening machine.

Being the bosses kid, I could fuck with my dad's employees and there wasn't much they could do to me. One time, I saw my dad's lead mechanic (Alex) bent over under the hood of a car.

This was too much temptation, so I popped his ass with my handy shop rag. The crack was so loud and the tip of the rag hit him so hard that I think his Inca ancestors felt it. He forgot what he was doing and as his body straightened in pain and he hit is head really hard on the open hood.

Figuring I bit off more that I could chew, I ran my ass off and locked myself in an old truck until he cooled off.

Since kids are notorious for their trusting nature and short memories Alex was able to play it off. He got me back soon after. There was a sandy arroyo up the street where they would take cars to test the front end work before delivering to the customer.They would run the hell out them on this sandy stretch of desert just to make sure nothing was going to fall apart. One day, Alex asked me if I wanted to go with him. Never passing up an opportunity to go riding around in the sand, I said yes.

He told me to hop into the back of the pickup he was test driving. As soon as we pulled onto the dirt, Alex floored it, and started tearing off up and down sand dunes and going sideways on the wall. I was tossed around like a rag doll in the back of the pickup bed, I though for sure I was going to go flying. We were hitting at least 60 and I knew it was the end of me for sure. I caught glimpses of Alex laughing his little Mexican ass off through the back window...fucking bastard... This area is shown by the blue arrow.


Since I lived and only had a few bumps and bruises to show for my ride, and I had given Alex a 2 inch purple welt on his ass and a nasty bump on the head from the shop rag incident, we shook hands and called it even. I didn't tell dad, he probably would have laughed his ass off anyway.