Frank uncle, thatz what I called him, my neighbor from my
childhood, we moved into this new neighborhood and he had recently returned
after a couple of years in the middle east. He never called it gulf like the
others, maybe like the others he was not at Gulf. I think he was a mechanic by
trade, but he was a superb handyman, there wasn’t any gadget he couldn’t fix,
not that there were a lot in the middle class neighborhood.
He worked with Usha Telehost or something that sounded like
that, didn’t know when he went to work, he was always at home, I always saw him
greased clothes, except on the odd Sundays or around x-mas.
He wasn’t your average mechanic, there would always be a
strange car, outside always, a car which was not normally sighted on the roads,
but once in a blue-moon would spot it at Victoria layout, Benson town, where
those old people with strange English names lived. He would have stories
about the owner and the car. There were vintage a quarter century ago. Guessing
that makes them really old now.
I still look at the grill of the car first, to try and
identify. I would hang outside my gate just to see Frank uncle come out and take
the cover off his car. Which was a long wait, he took his sweet time to get to
fixing the car, the first week would be spent in push starting the car, waiting
for the battery to return from the recharge guy. and anecdotes about the car,
the cars in the era, how to recognize a car, and what to expect, grills were
important to him, cause thatz what showed up on your rear view mirror. Depending
on the grill you decided to pull aside to let him pass, wait for it to pass as
some great beauty passed by. Grill said, who you are.
Once the battery returned, it was time to start the car. If it
started in a couple of tries, which was a rarity. He would start from how the
engine sounded, with the bonnet open. I could not sit inside the beetle that
came around, cause I was unable to spot the engine, who knew about rear mounted
engines.
Invariably, whatever the original complaint the car came in
for, it would stripped. Oil drained. Looking and feeling the oil he would tell
you what wrong, guess he was right, cause the gearbox or such heavy pieces would
be stripped out. Mechanics version of urine test I guess, now. I was amazed, he
would explain, by the kind of debries found in the oil. How it was used,
without oil, overheated, or where the original problem lay.Gears grinding told
a story I guess.
He was a healthy south Indian with prosperity filled pot
belly leading where he went. Which was a huge problem to get under the car. He
did all this without a roof over the car, by the side of his house on the the
road. For which he would wait for a helping hand to drop in. mostly in the
shape of his wife’s younger brothers, who wanted to move to the city for
education or employment. The problem was the brother in law going under the car
was always a new guy. Franch uncle would give him a spanner with a perfect fit
for the part he wanted to loosen. While this guy took time to figure which bolt
head the spanner fit. I would sometimes hand the required spanner after the guy
had gone under, which took some persuasion. He never let me go under though I was
eager. I knew about the sizes cause they were written on it, but he taught me
why a ring spanner. Others would a wack with the tool if you handed him a wrong
kinda tool, I would just be asked to go home after being explained the right
usage of the tool, his tea break.
Most cars came for mechanical fix, not for any luxury fitment
or things like that. They all left without any wash, or wax polish, but
sounding exactly the way he had said they should.
One day I am surprised to see an Ambassador parked outside
his place. Surprised, cause have never seen this ordinary car ever, he always
had some exotic one parked outside.
Well this car was out of the ordinary, cause I think it was
the first car which came in for a full on paint job too. And tons of badges, to
go on the grill. This was going to be a bright Orange Ambassador.
Have seen the Orange Ambassador from time to time, it’s hard
to miss. Feel proud, I am sure I did pass the right spanner, or let Frank uncle
take a tea break.
He passed away this morning.
He won’t be needing any help to look under the car no more.
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