SLOW BY MEANING (nyc westside piers, 1968):

314. SLOW BY MEANING:

I was never slow by meaning and as I went along most things fell right into place for me - a rather quick understanding of what I'd see and because of that what is called a 'quick-study' or something like that was often applied to me although the truer meaning of that having something more to do with 'Jack of all trades/Master of none' as that saying went - no one ever spoke that precise phrase but it was always there : someone who knew how to change a tire quickly or lube a chassis or change a plug and all along the westside piers that sort of thing was always needed for there were without fail broken down trucks or old crummy cars having problems and back then it was a different situation : carburetors needed constant attention mixtures and chokes and fuels had to be just right so that these cars and trucks could withstand the brash punishment of start and stop and re-start and go again under load and then without load all of those things together for the case was always thus - nothing was ever knew and all these cheap and battered hulks were really just hanging on often well past their point of value but these old jobbers and truckers would run anything they could and run it until it was plain out and out fried and dead and anything that could be done along the way to keep something running was looked upon as a favorable boon to be taken advantage of : all-night news trucks sagging on their springs and leaky and rusted old lumber trucks and food carts and vegetable or fish wagons all that shiny and leaky stuff would eventually need some attention and there were gasoline puddles and oil traps under most everything - all with seals and gaskets gone and foul seepage dripping down the sides of warm oil pans and engine blocks fuel backups flaming out carburetor tops and mostly always and everywhere the clouds of blue oil smoke plumed - bad piston rings and broken-down adjustments spewing oil and leakage everywhere while miraculously these things still ran and there was always a few dollars a day to be made from scrubbing or fixing or adjusting something - spinning tales of repair and renewal to which no one ever really followed up as long as something was still running or running again and for a long period of cold months that was my prime day job too - stalking these gasoline heaps and seeing what and if anything needed doing and all the while making things us talking fast stealing what I could and pilfering whatever tools were needed to get the task at hand finalized finished and out of the way.