Ron the queer.

I remember that being his name... at least that's what everyone ended up calling him.

When I worked at my dad's automotive repair shop back in the late 70's I remember this guy walking up and asking about a beat up old dodge my dad had for sale. This guy was bald, with a little tiny goatee. I also noticed he was dressed strangely, I just couldn't wrap my ten year old mind what was so peculiar about this guy.

Until he stuck his hand on his hip and started to talk in a lispy flamboyant manner. I remember that his voice and mannerisms reminded me of Paul Lynde from Hollywood squares. As a little kid I didn't have many points of reference.

Turns out the guy didn't have the $ 500 to buy the car but announced he was an artist and would paint a professional portrait of my father in exchange for the vehicle. My dad agreed, he was proud of his looks and figured a professional portrait might be cool to have.

Dad bartered all the time. It was much more convenient than shelling out cash and sometimes he could get stuff he would have never bought for himself otherwise.

Ron became a semi-permanent fixture around the shop. I still didn't know exactly what was so damn peculiar about him until I finally got the nerve to ask, "Dad, is Ron a homo? I didn't know what a homo was or what they did in particular but the word came out of my subconscious somewhere.

My dad laughed and confirmed I was indeed correct. Damn, Well I wasn't any closer to understanding but I was on the right track.

In between sittings for the painting Ron would bring the old dodge in and ask if my dad could teach him how to work on it himself. My father was much too busy for this nonsense and it kinda seemed that Ron was developing a crush of sorts. Even my addled little mind could see it.

So, dad handed me a set of tools and told me to teach Ron how to work on his car. By ten years old I already knew how to do most basic automotive repairs and figured instructing Ron would be at the very least entertaining.

I started to get more clues to the nature of "homos" when I handed Ron a 9/16 wrench and told him to loosen the bottom bolt on the front shock absorber. This was an easy first job for a automotive neophyte..or so I thought.

Ron put the tip of the wrench on the bolt and started trying to twist it left to right in a silly limp wristed manner. Of course it didn't budge. I took the wrench, placed it sideways on the bolt and and got it started. Pretty soon he was doing it for himself. He suddenly and boisterously exclaimed: "Oh my god! I feel soooo butch!"

Jeez, I kinda wished he wouldn't talk so much. It was kind of gross the way this grown man prattled on like a school girl. He did seem appreciative of my tuteledge however, and I spent a week teaching Ron how to weld, use power tools and other manly things he so obviously missed out on up to this point.

Finally, the painting was finished. Everyone seemed happy with it, I was a little concerned because my mom said it looked gay. Not sure exactly what she meant by that, but she always had something negative to say about everything.

I inherited the portrait a few years back and people tell me I look exactly like my dad. Come to think of it he was just about my age when it was painted.

This is about as close to a picture of Hammer as you will get...