One of those jobs to clean up the closing of a lifetime. It was a gardening day and the weather was pretty good except for the mosquitoes and expected tick removals. A bit of weed removal with the swell DeWalt battery powered weed whacker with four .40 ‘strings’ on the business end. Culvert, dandelions in the garden. Usual mess of doing things the lawnmowers cannot do. Tipped the business end just so to utterly destroy the pokey plants and the dandelions. I took the weed whip and put it in the pick up. It was nowthe time to do that delayed chore on the township road up ¼ mile from the mailbox.

It was time to remove the old sign for the shop. The really nice one put in when the boys were young and the sign bright and visible. A sign donated from the local parts supplier and put up with a sticker from the county on the back that made it official, it was just far enough from the private field and close enough to be seen with an arrow pointing down Lakewood drive to our sign at the beginning of our driveway. Fine Tuning Automotive Repair also on a big black metal pole. The road sign was a beauty decades ago. Now the wind and weather had taken their toll. Part of it was torn and the words and arrow sort of visible. The sign at the driveway is still there. We had an Eggs for sale on it for a while.

The shop had been closed less than a year after my best worker, really a son, had so little good work, that financially it closed. Excuses flowed from me and about technology difficulties in the automotive field. Financial updates, recession in the country. Reasonable excuses. That loved and faithful worker lost interest and the cash flow was less than a good job as working as a machinist in a local business. A good decision for good work that a talented metal manipulator and machine tool worker could do.

Decades before that time, I ran the shop by myself since the late 70’s and it was enough for our small family to survive on. Our new man who lived with us, ran it for a few more years after I had a period of seizures and was aging into my 70’s.

Big jobs, as before, were the meat and potatoes of income. Engine rebuilding, brakes and suspension problems. The reputation of my shop was electronic diagnosis and repair. When I began the business as a ham radio guy, I was not afraid of wires and electronics. The business grew and after a while, I doubled the building size. The old wood stove was replaced with modern waste oil furnaces and the sliding wood doors upgraded to real ones with electtic openers. Things like that. The electronic tools increased and technology did too. Check engine lights came on and hardly anyone knew what to do to put that light out with the accompanying loss of performance.

The reputation of my shop was solid and drew customers by word of mouth without much of an advertising budget. Customers from other counties and restorations now and then for thousands of dollars.

It was closed now and our friend who lived with us for years was getting ready to move away to a different life with his new life and newly wed wife. They left and took everything that was his contribution to the repair tools. Even an Led light bulb in a ceiling fixture his distant dad gave him. Understandable nostalgia. They moved to his Dad’s place, 35 miles away. There was no reason to stay and his Dad needed him there. It made sense but still was hard to see them go. They don’t see each other anymore. The memories of their times together are vivid. Worshiping with him on piano, my son on drums, Julie and I also singing and myself on viola and violin. oddly, there was no communication from him and his wife and it was hard. The big Bumper to Bumper lighted sign on the front was still there but the fluorescent lights had long been out. The parking lot started emptying out and the land line was canceled after a brief message of the shop going out of business.

The shop was still warm and my tools were still there. My youngest son, Soren, and I worked on the family machinery and there are no more tow trucks arriving at night with ’emergency repairs. Often vehicles that had not been running for a year or so. The emergency was that vehicle was now needed by the owners

So I unbolted the road sign after gardening and put the battered pieces in the truck bed. I then drove up to the local big dairy tourist shop for a bottle of Merlot wine. I could not get out of the truck. The Minnesota license plates kept rolling in and rolling out with ice cream cones and fresh cheese curds in hand.

I could not get out of the truck. I felt like I was driving a hearse and there was a body in the truck bed. More than the phone goodbye message, more than the big empty parking lot, more than the absence of our close friend and his wife. The loss and the finality fell inside me and the death of Fine Tuning was final. I took the sign to the metal scrap yard the next week and the burial was done. Some tears inside the old Ford Ranger as the tourists came and went. After a time of mourning it was time to move on and get things done at the dairy. A few pleasant words with the wine tasting gal and a sip of good wine from her and a bottle of Merlot, it was time to head home. The spring tourists had snapped up the fresh cheese curds.

The body in the bed was now quiet and the familiar farms and homes on the country and township roads were seen as stable and unchanged. A few new names can be seen on some of the mailboxes. I still see the one with the front door blocked by missing stairs. Home again for the Friday Shabbatt and the sign, dead in the truck bed, acknowledged by Julie and she understood my sudden grief. The morels, asparagus with the good Merlot were delicious.

Years later our son who began supporting us, started the complete remodel of the shop. Removing the customer counter and many of the bolted on tools and workbenches and pulling down the ceiling in the old back shop. It all went into a 20 foot long roll off and a borrowed bobcat hauled a lot of blown in insulation and panels out to that roll off. New trusses and panels, rewiring all the ancient stuff that was there from 50+ years ago when I moved to the farm. A new roof and siding. A propane furnace that is now required by our insurance company and all the things that need updating on a massive project. I helped, at 81 now, slower but able to haul branches and tree parts that had somehow appeared at the back of the shop. We had removed the huge totes parked there that held the waste oil and sold them and the furnace. Now was the time to get the debris removed. The roll off delivery driver bought the lighted sign for his man cave! He even helped to remove it. Four foot square sign up about 12 feet on the front of the shop. The wasps had made a weather proof home there and had to be evicted.

I was pleased with the transformation and all the new space for our machinery, boat and the still useful tool boxes and attendant bigger tools. 30 ton press, 3 freezers that were now easy to get to. Usual things that garages are full of, usual farm things. Even room for the Kubota tractor and snow blower. Warmer and handy without all the necessities for a commercial operation. I did not have grief this time, but relief and astonishment at my son’s vision and speedy work. He is very talented and fit for the work. I am over 80 and can still run a few things. Mostly the wheelbarrow and the small John Deere LT with a trailer. I never did run the old wheat combine. Too many chains and gears and the cab makes you feel as though your are in a carnival ride, hovering in space.

The grief has been replaced by acceptance and the pleasure of change. It was gradual but did not take a long time to see the logic and rightness of my son’s vision of his inheritance. Very pleasant to see that and even help to do it. Not many older people experience this part of life. A lot of farmers do. They get off the big tractors and combines and hang out with their sons and daughters who inherit the vision of family farms.

Life itself is the inheritance and values around the pancakes and home grown food. I am blessed by our lord with these gifts and I know that Daddy is pleased to give them. “Come to me and all these things will given to you.””I pray this for your joy.

“Your Daddy’s so proud of you., your Daddy’s so proud of you. You are faithful with much, faithful with little. Faithful with words for others. Well done, well done. Daddy’s so proud of you” A,

I live for this vision and the joy of His gifts and presence.

It’s pretty Good. Norm/Jack

A. A song I learned at River Valley Christian Church.