Al's Job

Chapter 1

"FIGHTING BREAKS OUT IN DERNA AND LIBYA" read Monday morning's paper. "Casualties of soldiers and civilians top thirty million. World War II is taking its toll."
"Put the paper down, Pa, and 'et!" fumed Ma (this was her third time admonishing Pa for reading at the breakfast table). Pa started in his chair. He settled the paper on the counter and grinned sheepishly at Ma. The other family members sat around the table, already eating their meal of hotcakes and coffee, their elbows on the table, fists bolstering their drooping faces. "Well, we took Tobruk back from them Krauts a coupla days ago." offered Pa. "I wisht they'd all jus' go home and forgit about 'takin' over the world'. Crackerjack sons-a-bitches…" Al muttered. Aggie nodded sullenly, sitting by her husband's side.
"Well, I think we best be gittin' off to work now." said Ma after a considerable silence. There was murmured agreement and the sound of chairs scraping across the linoleum floor. Al was the first one out of the door, eager to escape the fear of the war by working at his favorite place in town, Moe's Auto Repair.
When the Joads arrived in Merced, California, in March of 1940, they were exhausted, without jobs, and determined. As soon as they got into town, they all began looking for jobs, any job. Of course, everyone started with what they enjoyed doing first, and then worked their way down their list of preferences until they reach an open job. Al was the only one who got his first choice, and in his case, a mechanic. They rented out a small, white house on the south side of town, no more than a ten-minute walk to every family member's job. They began making a small, but steady income each week. Al had the highest paying job, thirty-two cents an hour! Every day Al departed from the small house and walked gaily down the street to the big auto shop.
Al stepped in the front door of Moe's Auto Repair and the cowbell slung around the doorknob clanged, signaling his presence to the others in the shop. The other mechanics glanced up from their work and smiled as Al approached them. He took his Moe's Auto Repair jacket off from the hook inside the entryway to the mechanic's "lair", as the mechanic's themselves called it. Al's boss, Harold, sauntered into the shop just as Al began to grease up his hands for work. Harold walked into the lair and asked the boys to gather around.
"Alright, boys" began Harold "We have a bit of a tall order today. We got an International comin' down today from-" groans and mumbling began amongst the mechanics, cutting Harold off from his speech. "As I was saying." Harold began again "There's an International truck comin' down from Stockton. Got a call this mornin' from the driver saying that the brake pads are shot, and the springs got to be replaced. An a' course this ain't no regular car we got here. This is an eight wheeler. So, this'll be a little more demanding, but I'm sure you boys can manage." he said with a wink. And with that, he retired to his desk to do some paperwork. Al and the rest of the mechanics settled down to work on the cars in the shop, fixing leaks in the radiator, replacing timing belts, and filing orders for parts they didn't have. The truck arrived shortly after ten o' clock, but the mechanics could hear it halfway down the road because what was left of the brake pads were screaming on the rotors. The driver looked haggard, but relieved to have arrived at the shop in one piece. He left the repair station as soon as he had signed the authorization papers to find a nice diner. Al was one of the three mechanics chosen to work on the International. They began their work on the truck promptly, and (to Harold's great pleasure), without groaning. Replacements of the specialized truck springs and suspension parts were ordered. The brake pads were in stock, so they were able to replace those immediately. Two of the four large tool tables were rolled over to facilitate the mechanics. They needed to have the truck ready by tomorrow morning because the truck driver was due back in San Diego by nightfall. The mechanics worked hard and diligently all day long. The parts for the suspension arrived shortly after six o' clock, and Al and the other mechanics began assembling them and installing them into the truck. They all stayed late and finished the job by nine o' clock. Al was assigned sweeping up the shop this week, and he began sweeping while all the other mechanics slipped off their jackets and placed them gingerly on their hooks. Then they walked outside and went home to have a late dinner. Harold approached Al as he was sweeping the dirt from the undersides of the cars away. "Al" began Harold. "Fine job you did today on that truck. This really is somethin' you enjoy ain't it?" "Yessir." answered Al, a smile creeping up his face. "Well, you been here for almost eleven months now… and I was thinkin'…. how'd you like to be manager here?" The question shocked Al. He was speechless so Harold added "I'm gittin' too old for this work. I'm seventy-nine years old, Al. I want to retire and live with my wife in San Diego. And you have shown me your expertise in mechanics, dedication and you have just said that you really do like doing this." Al recovered his voice "But, sir… why me?" "Well, cause I see the way you talk to the boys here and they respect for your kindness and your skill." "Well…. well, golly, sir! I'd be honored," stammered Al. Harold chuckled good-naturedly. "We'll talk about this more tomorrow," said Harold. "Well, alright sir!" said Al. He pushed open the door, and again the cowbell clanged, but this time, Al swore he heard a new tone in it. A tone of promise. Al walked home, oblivious to the cold, whistling a tune, Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy, to be exact:
"He was a famous trumpet man from old Chicago way
He had a boogie style that no one else could play
He was the top man at his craft
But then his number came up and he was gone with the draft
He's in the army now, a-blowin' reveille
He's the boogie-woogie bugle boy of Company B"
Al strolled in the house, still humming. Ma was cleaning the kitchen when he walked in. She turned. "What're you doing home so late?" demanded Ma. Al beamed. Ma's expression changed from annoyance to confusion. "I got some news for you, Ma."