Word: jeep
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...walks into a major department store in Paris wearing Caterpillar boots, a Jack Daniels cap, Club Med shades, a Cadillac polo shirt and Marlboro jeans. He smells ruggedly of Chevrolet aftershave. He buys a set of Le Cordon Bleu cookware for his wife and a Jeep radio-CD player for himself. To pay, he flips opens his Harrods leather wallet and whips out a Jaguar Visa card. He's branded to the hilt, and the embodiment of European consumerism for the new millennium...
Three large garage doors lead into the shop, which even when empty, looks like a fully functioning engine and detail center. Just inside, propped on cement blocks, is a rusted, formerly red 1979 Jeep Cherokee, used to teach bodywork. In the back of the shop, huge wooden slabs, stained by oil and grease, lie on top of old gym lockers, creating the lab space where students learn engine anatomy. All sorts of auto parts fill the shelves and remaining floor space. "All this stuff is just tools," says Mandernach, looking around his shop, "tools to motivate kids...
...meantime, Danny was at home. He had a radio and a cell phone and, when roused, a foot on the accelerator of his jeep as heavy as a rhino's. He got straight through to the nearest medical unit, which was in Broome, 75 miles away. Then he tore up the road to the wreck, where he held my hand, swore that help was coming and listened to me begging him to shoot me if the gasoline, which was leaking copiously from the crumpled innards of the car, caught fire. Would he have actually done so? I don't know...
When we traded asphalt for sand in our four-wheel drive Jeep, the ride seemed more like a Six Flags stomach-churner than a scenic nature drive. My sleepy head jostled back and forth like a pinball. The trip seemed a sacrifice for both father and son, each for the other's sake--my father from his busy work schedule and his son from his last days with his beguiling girlfriend. But for a few brief hours, my father and I were spending time--life's most precious commodity--together...
...slithered out of the Jeep and into my beaten-up tennis shoes and grabbed my gear that my father had meticulously arranged during my date the previous night. My red-and-pink shrimptail lure had been enlisted for battle with everything from speckled trout to eel-like ribbonfish. The assortment of friendly people half-submerged in the water reminded me that I was not in Boston...