By: Corky Guenther
While casting about mine this week, looking for something to write about, I considered writing about the progress (slow) of the MGB project. Tangentially, I wandered about in another corner contemplating why it is so slow. The obvious conclusion: it’s me.
That lead me to think about why I am what I am and the things we learn from our parents. In this case specifically, my Dad. Priscilla will gladly, perhaps jubilantly, tell you that I am anal when it comes to doing anything that involves working with my hands. If it isn’t exactly right to my mind, it isn’t any good. To quote: “good enough isn’t”
And so, things I learned from my Dad. He worked, for as long as I knew, 9 hours a day, 5 days a week and 4 hours on Saturday; as a tool and die maker and model maker at a small manufacturing firm in my home town. Those of you of a certain age may remember that you or your mother washed clothes with a washing machine that included a wringer. Two rubber rolls which squeezed the water out of the clothes as they passed out of the washer into a tub. My dad’s company manufactured those rolls and wringers for several washer manufacturers. Again, you may remember that the mid to late 1950s was the advent of colored anodized aluminum home products. Water tumblers come to mind and were everywhere in numerous colors. Anodized colored aluminum shelves appeared in many refrigerators - each manufacturer had its own proprietary color. Dad’s company made those shelves. They also when I was working there while attending college, made 105mm Howitzer shells for the Army. I digress. Empty mind again.
One of the things that happened with wringers as with innumerable consumer products was the influence of styling for lack of a better word. The operating mechanism was hidden by a shroud. Sleek, rounded with compound curves, most of them painted white. My dad’s job was to take the engineering drawings and turn them into a prototype. In the beginning, he would make a die set to be mounted in a press to stamp out the shroud. That stopped after the production folks took his prototype die, tried to use it for production and then complained that it broke. So, he made them by hand, cutting, bending and welding etc., much like body repair fabrication but without body filler. Sadly I never acquired those skills.
Once while working in the basement on a wood project, he told me to sweep up the shop that it would be good training. I flippantly remarked that I wanted to be something better than a janitor. That’s when I learned that the worth of a person is not what they do for a living but how well they do it and how satisfied they are with having done it. After that 5 minute conversation, I could have walked upright through the ¼” crack under the door.
My dad wasn’t a “car guy” the way most of us are. His cars were practical. He was a Plymouth guy though. They bought a new one in 1936 and another new one in1950 which relegated the 36 to his work car. A 55 Dodge in 1956, a new Valiant in 1960, a full size Plymouth in 1965 and again in 1968. Except the 36 – a two door, all were four door sedans with base engine and transmission combinations. As I said, practical. They did get successively bigger as was the time. The first thing Mom did after he passed was to trade that 68 for a Duster after taking off the outside mirror while exiting the garage.
My dad was meticulous. He and his oldest brother operated a garage for several years and he told a story of one Sunday changing the rear axle in a Model T Ford while wearing a white suit and not getting any grease on his suit. His training started early. His father was a wheelwright and wagon maker and it was there working on wagon assembly that he learned that the screw slots need to be “square with the world”.
And that’s why the MGB is taking so long. It has to be right in my mind and square with the world.