LESSON - AD "A BULLET DOWN THE HIGHWAY "
The car had been wobbling again, it was time to change the breaks. Lizeth was still pregnant and I wondered if our child would be good with automotive maintenance?
Rather than take it to a mechanic or auto shop, at the suggestion of one of my closest friends, I decided to change the brakes myself. As foolish as that may sound, it would only have been stupid if I had not sought out help. If left to me, a car with Chad-touched-brakes would be nothing more than a bullet down the highway.
No, I would get not only help but a teacher.
Most guys would have their fathers to go to.
I went to my father-in-law, AD.
That day, AD appeared as he always did. He wore a baseball hat and a long-sleeved shirt which could serve for any function from family dinners to automotive maintenance. And he wore well-pressed slacks. He could make any outfit functional despite the amount of activity or time spent sliding under a car.
Despite his age, he was a strong man. Having lived a younger life of climbing trees and sitting out amongst nature, AD was not far from a Mexican Thoreau. And family was important to him, no, family was his lifeblood. Family, classical music and room temperature coffee.
I pulled up the car and entered the house. Smiles and handshakes later, my tutorial began.
Jack-stands were selected. Parking break was in place. Lugnuts loosened and up the car went. With a master's ease, my father-in-law had her secured.
Off the wheels would go and with great ease or considerable strength, the brake pads would be loosened and removed. Brake shoes and rotors came off like giant pennies complete with unknown debris and signs of wear and their job well done.
He did two tires and I watched like a brown bird of prey, maybe even like a black parakeet. I wanted to know the steps, the movements, the necessary parts, how they worked and how to replace them. Whenever we needed something from the local auto store, off we went and my father-in-law would often ask for frenos or discos and get the parts we needed. And often the store employee would look at us trying to figure out the relationship.
Sometimes I told them. Sometimes I didn't.
And off we would go, returning to the Frankenstein-like car with her wheels and potential other insides pulled apart while we worked. We talked, rather gracefully moving between English and Spanish like two intermediate dancers weaving side by side. I learned a bit of his life - from his own words but also from his actions. I learned more about tools and tool box organization than ever before. Being organized was important and so was improvisation. The latter no more obvious than when my father-in-law would make a "hmmmm" like noise at an ill-fitting brake pad only to disappear into his garage. Immediately, the whine of a grinding machine would spin up and sing, telling you AD was "working" and "fixing" the problem. The rest of his family worried when he sanded, ground down or spliced problems away. I, having grown up fatherless, was rather impressed. My brother Jaime had done much the same as AD and I always loved watching my bro work as well. This wasn't him rigging a problem, this was watching an artist work.
And in watching and learning and doing, I moved from scared-as-hell-I-was-going-to-break-the-car to what-was-that-why-do-you-do-that to I'll-take-this-wheel.
Eventually, the car was done. She was let down easy and I pumped those brakes like the devil. I fired the car up and never had it performed so smoothly – brakes and all.
But really, I learned more that day than how to apply jack stands, loosen brake pads and replace rotors. I learned more than checking brake fluid or how to ask for any of the necessary pieces in Spanish. You see, AD is also diabetic. And somewhere in-between working on the brakes or right after, I marched him down the block to McDonalds and made sure he ate food. My father-in-law has been known to work and go and go and work without properly eating - a terrible idea for someone who, as my mom would put it, has the "sugar." I was adamant that he eat and eat well. Yes, for his diabetes but also because what he had done for me and should be done for him in return.
And there in that McDonalds, I kind of got it. For a dad and a son, even a father-in-law and a son-in-law, things go around. Like the wheels and rotors, we had disassembled and put back together, we were turning around, rotating from helper to helped, watching over to the over watched.
And that's a lesson for fatherhood - we turn around, we take care of and can be taken care of in the same breath.