Crankcase oil coursed my dad’s veins. He repaired engines for a living. Dad loved machines. God gave my dad a mechanical moron, a son who couldn’t differentiate between a differential and a brake disc. Dad tried to teach me. I tried to learn. Honestly, I did. Machines anesthetized me. But books fascinated me. What does a mechanic do with a son who loves books? He gives him a library card. Buys him a few volumes for Christmas. Places a lamp by his bed so he can read at night. Pays tuition so his son can study college literature in high school. My dad did that. You know what he didn’t … Listen Now

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