"Red" @ 'International'

Last Friday as I was driving our big, red semi from Valparaiso, IN to E. Alton, IL, it became clear that an air-leak problem was getting worse. The truck's brakes and other systems are operated by air pressure. I phoned a friend in Springfield, IL to help me find a repair shop. Jim found the International truck dealer and gave me the number. I called ahead and went there. I got in about 8:00 p.m. Red is the manager. He was a littel gruff on the phone and also in person. He seemed like a guy not to mess with, so I didn't. I just gave him the info - what I wanted done and pretty much stayed out of his way. Two guys came out to the the truck to diagnose the problem. One was a bright-looking, young Mexican (my first guess was Phillipino) who speaks unaccented English. The two mechanics found a part to replace and then just disappeared without any word to me. So I went about my business in the truck, organizing things to get ready to go home for the weekend. After some time, I decided I'd better go inside to check on progress. Red was there and said the guys were having dinner and I was welcome to sit in the lunch room. I did and watched the end of an Austin Powers movie which I'd never seen - not my cup of tea, but what I saw was funnie. Then sports came on & I was outo' there - not a sports fan. I asked Red if I could borrow a ladder to do some work on my tarp, so he showed me where to get a ladder. In & out of the shop a few times, I finally asked Red if he knew a good place to park my truck for a couple days. He looked strangely at me, so I had to explain that a friend was going to drive me home to southern IL and I would return to the truck on Sunday night. Somehow this started a conversation. Red is not such a gruff guy after all. He has roots around St. Louis and relatives in Carbondale. I heard his work history - how he came to be manager of this dealership and would like to manage a dealership in the St. Louis area. This led to my part of the conversation, "You'll never guess what I did before trucking..." I told him I was a professional violinist and that I play in the IL Symphony in Springfield. He was really impressed and our relationship changed from that point. I wandered back out to the truck. When I was messing with the tarp the Mexican guy seemed like he would like to have a conversation. He asked me some leading questions, so as he was working under my trailer, after I had put the ladder away, we chatted. He's studying computers at Lincoln Land College and has a wife and a little daughter... He thought I didn't look or talk like a trucker. I've heard that before. He guessed I was a teacher. Then Red came out. He said to the Mexican, "Did he tell what he did before trucking?" About that time is when I finally offered, "I have it right here if you want to hear it." So I played fiddle tunes for them right there behind the trailer. It was cool. Red was phoning people and saying things that start with, "You won't believe..." And he called other mechanics over. I played "Back Up and Push," "Beaumont Rag," and "Maiden's Prayer." Red seems really enthusiastic about me now! So the work got done, I parked the truck on the street right in front of the shop where Red told me I could park, and another mechanic came out to say, "Red says bring your violin in." So I did. there were five mechanics waiting to hear it. The one new arrival wasn't believing what Red was telling him. So this time I played "Amazing Grace" an excerpt from Kreisler "Praeludium and Allegro," and "Wish I Were a Rich Man." Red was promoting me to all his buddies. It was a little embarrassing. Anyway, the bill was still $170. No discount for baring my soul to them. Of course I don't expect discounts, but I wonder if it would've cost more if I hadn't made friends? Jim picked me up. We left early next morning for Goreville. Jim & I had rehearsing to do for our gig on Aug. 26 - a 50th anniversary celebration of our mutual friend Kregg's parents. Jim was coming down anyway this weekend. It just worked out nicely to park the truck in Springfield, which is exactly in route to where we were to deliver on Monday. Our weeked with Jim is another story...