Battle Scars

The other day, my daughter was looking at my hands. "Daddy, what's that?" she asked, with all the innocence of a six-year-old.

"It's a scar, honey."

"Oh. How did you get it?"

Instantly, my mind started re-living the pain of that day. I was replacing the belts on my father's old Bronco II, and I was wrestling with bolts that hadn't budged in years. Unable to get one free, I pulled out the 1/2" drive socket wrench, put it on the bolt, and pushed with all my might.

Just then, the wrench slipped off the bolt, and my hand went full-force past a bracket, gouging a knuckle on my right hand and removing 1 inch of flesh from my wrist.

I, then a man of 23, cried. People two towns over heard an obscenity carried by the wind. My foot later hurt from kicking the truck's bumper in anger.

Naturally, my daughter got the abridged version, but it got me thinking about all the various scars on my hands from all the years of working on cars. And that we, as vehicle enthusiasts, probably all have our share of wounds that come from our love of all things mechanical.

I have scars from cars. I have friends who have scars from motorcycle kick-starters that snapped back to rip open the calf on their right leg. I once met a man who lost most of his face from a motorcycle accident.

Are we stupid for wanting to continue our love of working on and caring for these machines? After all, we stay away from bees because they sting. Most people don't eat liver because of its taste. And we know not to jump from an airplane without a parachute.

Rather, we tend to get up, brush ourselves off, and wipe the blood away with a greasy shop rag. Then we pick up the wrench, or get back on the motorcycle, and do it all again, knowing full well that there's a good chance we'll be injured again.

Face it. We're mechanical masochists.

Few things in life see this same kind of dedication. In a disposable world, where it's easier to "buy it new" rather than repair it, car and motorcycle enthusiasts continue to be the ones who will find it worthwhile to finish the job. After all, there's no better sense of accomplishment as when, after the job, you close the hood over a purring motor.

So take a look at your hands, and think about all the scars you see. It's even okay to ask friends about theirs. Or take the time to talk to the grizzled old mechanic - he probably has the best stories.

Don't be afraid to show off your mechanical scars. They're just tattoos of our passion.



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