tao machine

"dirt-tired, greased & wired, but the job's done, hey."

the scattered tools upon the table, all in disarray. the wrenches, sockets, screwdrivers, extensions & adaptors, nuts & bolts & washers scrounged from the floor and about all (mostly) gathered in coffee cans... the piles of parts; case halves, studs, con rods & cranks, camshafts & shims, heads, manifolds, oil radiators, fan housings, distributors, coils, voltage regulators, generators & alternators, carbs & pistons, fuel pumps, filters, trannies, CV joints, axles, brake shoes, fuses, spark plugs, batteries, mufflers, belts, pulleys, flywheels... the cans of mineral spirits, carb cleaner, oil & gas; brake fluid... cleaning a set of wheel bearings w/ an air hose sets it spinning at umpteen hundred RPM. buckets of grease. pressure plates & throw-out bearings. clamps & hoses. breaker bars & torgue wrenches. plastigauge. pedal clusters. cables. shifter plates & bushings. tires, wheels, brake drums clanging, struck by a 5 pound sledge hammer. smoke from the ashtray curls up to the rafters. the coffee pot ticks. we laugh like mad children w/ dirt (like black soot) on our faces & elbows & old worn clothing in the midnight garage.

the eternal engine that moves us. forward.

"i could carve one from a rock..."

crank it over. snick it in gear. let out the clutch. foot on the gas in Wide Open Throttle.

stand on it.


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