It was a 1972, or something, and he bought it from his brother when he was a teen. By the time he was out of high school, Jerry had completely rebuilt, re-painted, and re-everything-ed his Z-car. All by himself.
To say the least, he is quite a genius when it comes to fixing car engines, transmissions, and carburetors. Whatever those are.
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi07Ze70iC-bWiM5_v1raNFzK_UxjGl9OzYwyp44Le-LZcEmn08WK-4hyphenhyphennu5tNSChR-eP9NMVQDX988NkTkgNC25W1JMH4xkUl3WevnRl9zxZd77gJDwnuTkxsI5Ptg32rgQUy8Bl8olz3n/s320/IMG_7825.jpg)
Now, his workbench is a Little Red Wagon. A little red Radio Flyer.
I guarantee you that I would not be able to write in this blog the swear words he would have said hearing that bit of prophesy. This is a family blog, after all.
He had quite a sailor's vocabulary back then.
Some things just have to be learned through experience.
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXdoZuIbp4NSbcTk9i9W52p4vfFoy7CrR6JBA4AIpJDbrZMkI5KI-bxQ25as582oz-Z8rNgjnxcuDBm8AhZvgF0quAaJ9v80hiRjgxx2sRXJW_IDURPF2KjfAtj7j8-hdGCEGqK2fWMCKk/s320/IMG_7828.jpg)
Or plumber!