THE TIME clock would read slightly after three during hot summer afternoons as I punched my card. I clocked in each workday to start an evening shift. Not a happy worker back then, I suffered the heat of those days not because the later shift’s pay was really good. The suffering went deeper, because I considered the work as boring and I knew that the late shift would stretch out for years.

  First know that I hated evening shift. Having been told by the union steward that I would need over 17 years of seniority to either get back

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on day shift or switch to the 11PM to morning shift… I was very disgruntled. I felt much like a military grunt. I hadn’t felt that way since my days in Air Force basic training. At least there, they had the boldness to call me a grunt. Yes, I saw a few dollars more in my check at the end of the week. But working the “B” shift was very oppressive. I would start work in the height of summer heat pouring through the doors of that Philadelphia plant, and when I went home at midnight the pavement was still warm.

 However, the good thing was that I had just completed my tool and die apprenticeship. My job was now secure. My father had gotten me the position. He was a night shift Tool & Die supervisor at the same manufacturing plant for many years. Subsequently, to be an obedient and grateful son I needed to live up to his expectations... and those of others in my family.

  Jesus, knowing that the Father had given all things into his hands, and that he had come from God and was going to God, rose from supper, laid aside his garments, and girded himself with a towel. Then he poured water into a basin, and began to wash the disciples’ feet, and to wipe them with the towel with which he was girded.

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Previously no stranger to odd shapes, ‘59 Chevrolet angel wings led the parade into later body panel difficulties needing a resolution.