Friends Lost

I have been working in the same field and at the same place for most of my adult life, in those 20 plus years a lot of people have come and gone, some become good, close friends.When you work closely with people for many years you get to know them very well, sometimes better than their own families, Lord knows we spend more time with them. You share their heartache from lost loves, their pain through the loss of a loved one, and their different joys in life as well. I have had several  friends that passed away for one reason or another over the years, but 4 that I considered close friends and this story is about them.

I will only mention first names in my story out of respect for their families:

When I left the Army I bounced around several jobs until I found my niche: I started working at a Ford dealership as a apprentice mechanic and Sonny was my teacher and friend. If you saw Sonny in a dark alley you would probably turn around and run the other way. He was a 6'2" bearded giant who could pick an engine up off of the floor and set it on his work bench with little effort. Sonny was the personification of a "good ole boy", farm raised with country values, although a giant, a gentle giant. He joked all of the time and used the funniest sayings to describe any and everything: we called them "Sonny-isms".

Sonny was in some ways a Father figure for me, my own father had passed away a little over 3 years before Sonny and I met. He taught me, not only to work on vehicles, but more importantly, how to diagnose what was wrong with them, a skill that some mechanics just don't have. Over the years we stayed close and I survived his practical jokes. His favorite joke was wiring my toolbox to the ignition of a car, so when I went to get a tool out, he would crank the engine and I would get shocked. If you asked him if he was busy you would usually get a reply like " I am busier than a one legged man in an ass kicking contest". He always put a smile on my face and I miss him dearly.

Ken, we called him Kenny, was a straight laced, no bullshit, kind of guy. Kenny wouldn't give you a second glance unless you earned his respect, and you had to earn it. I worked next to him for over a year before he would even talk to me. The first time he did, he embarrassed me: He told me my ears were dirty, and to this day, every morning when I clean my ears, I think of him. After I earned his respect, we were good friend. He was a quite, hard working man, that loved his family above all else. He was clean and organized and taught me a lot about being more efficient through organization. You could always count on Kenny to tell you like it was and his word was respected by everyone in the shop.

Kevin was a tall lanky fellow that also liked to goof around and joke. He had a drinking past but stayed sober for many years, mainly for his son who he loved dearly. I remember Kevin crushing his foot with a manhole cover, and I, carrying him to my office to wait for an ambulance. I also remember banging said hurt foot on the door frame going into my office and Kevin howling in pain while all the mechanics giggled and laughed. Kevin rode a Harley and together we logged a lot of miles, cage free. Sadly, Kevin's wife left him for another man, and he turned back to the bottle to find solace for his pain. One night he took a final ride after leaving a bar. His name is painted on the water tower on highway 100, and he is missed by many. He died too early in life and to see his slide into depression left us all feeling guilty that we couldn't do more to help him.

Tom was in sales. He used to ride a foreign bike until we finally shamed him into buying a Harley. He was so proud of that Fat Boy; the look on his face the first time he rode to work was priceless. We also logged a lot of miles together. He was the only salesman that was ever accepted in the shop as one of the boys. Tom liked to stop in and sample many a dish at greasy spoons along a rides course and I share his enthusiasm for that. Tom and I and a few other friends would meet at the gun range in Busch Wildlife and shoot clay birds almost every weekend in the summer and hone our shooting skills. You could almost always count on a cold drink and snack to follow. Tom went into the hospital one day for a problem with his leg and never came out. He had cancer and didn't even know it.

Three of the four died of cancer, all died much too young. One of the hardest things in life is see proud strong men wither to a weak defeated frame. Going to the hospital to say goodbye to someone that has been a major part of your own life for many years, leaves you with a sadness that lasts a long, long time. I have made that trip too many times and attended too many funerals. My greatest hope is that I measured up in their eyes because they were the best I have ever had the honor to know.