Then there was the time I was alone, dropping the mill of my Corvair,
again. I was a kid, it's 1975.
My hair was much longer and more populous. A favorite target of fatherly
sarcasm at the time. I rolled waaay under the poor old oil spreader to
loosen a few things, rolled out and...
OUCH! Right over my hair. I could not budge the creeper any way without
pulling great gobs of hair outa my head. So there I lay, cold, waiting,
studying the underside of the oil pan. Trapped mink must feel like this.
I lay there for over three hours until someone missed my presence at the
dinner table. (Huh, that's never happened before, wonder where the boy
is???)
Dad came out to garage, asked if I was ok...
Uhh, sure dad. I could use a hand though. Could you reach under here and
lift up the creeper a bit?
WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO?!! GETCHER DAMN HAIR CAUGHT?! HAR HAR!
How many of you know tin snips cut hair very effectively.p
Heard that story for several years after that...
Scott Paceley * spaceley@uiuc.edu * 217-333-8759 * Champaign, Illinois
graphic design, photography, photo-illustration
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