More often than not, our first tasking is best described as “gopher”…go for the wrench, go for the flashlight, go for a couple of aspirin because Dad just banged his head off of the transmission crossmember again. I’ve handed tons of wrenches over, I’ve fetched more parts than I care to know and before I was in fifth grade I knew that I loathed dumping the bolt bucket out for one freaking mystery nut, then going back and piling all of the random hardware back into the bucket. But when you first get to spin wrenches, that’s a good time. That’s a feeling of power, the sensation that yes, you can indeed do the same work that Dad can. All you have to do is take the first step, break the first torque, and bust that first knuckle.

I’m vintage 1983, so it’s been a minute since my first wrench time. I can’t quite remember the first moment where I got turned loose with the tools. I was taught basic details like changing tires and oil, but the first time I really felt like I was doing more than basic maintenance was the day I tore a set of heads off of a Ford 289 that was being raided out of a 1974 Mercury Comet that was somewhere between alive and dead. They were my first lessons in the power of leverage, since I was rocking the big breaker bar and an entire jack handle slipped over the end…and it still took all of my barely 100 pounds of weight to break the bolts loose. A few smacks with a light mallet later, and I was lugging a cast iron head around like a trophy.

What’s your story?