A WIZARD WITH A WRENCH
Back in the winter of 2008 I drove my 2000 Mustang GT to New York while on leave from the Marines. I loved driving the big V8 powered machine, hitting the highways at nothing less than 90 mph, feeling the power of the engine as I pressed on the pedal. But there was something missing, a note, a rumble, the roar of a pipe.
I did my research and decided to purchase an aftermarket Borla exhaust, and I had no idea how to get it installed. At the time, my brother had been a mechanic for about 5 years. I wasn’t fully confident at first, but I figured I could save a few bucks while I was home in NY.
I had joined the Marines in September of 2004, and was lucky enough to get based in San Diego. The weather was great, the beaches were warm, and cold and gray New York was a 3,000 mile flight away. I hardly ever spent vacation days in NY, and so I hadn’t spent much time with my brother Leo, much less watch his progression in the auto mechanic field. I had no idea what he was capable of with a wrench.
We lifted the Mustang on jacks in our driveway. A good buddy of mine joined us and helped in our struggle to get the pipes on. Turns out they weren’t an exact fit. I remember thinking what a waste of time, I should have spent the money at an auto shop. However, Leo wasn’t discouraged.
“We’re gonna make cuts,” he said.
“Cuts?" I looked over at my buddy, Gio, who could only shrug. There was no way I’d let someone make “cuts” into my car. Leo then explained. He’d make cuts into the pipes I purchased, and try to fit them on. It was such a simple thing. Sometimes the simplest solution is the best solution.
It was a cold day, and it was starting to get dark out. We all got under the car, my buddy and I watched as Leo did his work. We handed him tools, held the pipes in place, felt the pebbled pavement against our backs as our sweaters rode up our torsos from moving around against the ground. I watched my brother work his tools, his craft, listened to his breathing. When we were done, Leo asked me to start the car.
The ignition lit the engine and our faces up. The pipes purred with a soft roar. Then I hit the gas pedal, softly at first, smiled at the rumble, beamed with excitement as I laid into the pedal a little harder. I could feel the deep notes of the exhaust pipes in my chest.
We drove around Long Island for hours, completely satisfied with how the project turned out. We’d look for tunnels, marvelled at the new deep notes of the Mustang bouncing back off the walls as we barreled through.
The aftermarket pipes were on. I came to NY with a purpose and completed it. Several years later the Mustang was sold at a good price. But I always look to that cold day and remember being under the car with my buddy Gio, with my brother Leo. I remember watching Leo with his tools, his breath in puffs as the day got colder, focused on the work, the magic of his trade.
