Write Using the Words 'Heartbreak,' 'Brake Fluid,' 'Trust' - Mark Maynard

The Heartbreak of Break Fluid: Why I Trust Nothing Under 350 CCs

My life used to smell of carbon and brake fluid. I grew up with the skinned knuckles, greasy fingernails and scatological vocabulary of a mechanic’s son. I put my trust in V8s, disc brakes and Snap On Tools. The throbbing of a big block engine was my own heartbeat, pounding in my ears.

That world was shattered. The timing belt gave out on my old man’s ticker one afternoon while he was flat on his back on a creeper under a 68 Impala in his garage. No one thought to check on him until closing time because the pristine legs of his powder blue coveralls and his polished Red Wing boots were as much a part of the shop as the well-endowed blonde on the Snap On wall calendar and the Ford-logo shop clock on the workbench wall.

It was Donnie, my dad’s shop foreman that finally rolled the heartbreak of my dad’s body out from under that Chevy. His wrench was still clutched tightly in his fist like some NRA slogan aimed at the bureaucrats aiming to take semi-automatic pneumatic wrenches off the streets, “you can have my torque wrench when you pry it from my cold dead hands.”