I was blessed to have learned the basics while in school, with reading and writing my favorites. Arithmetic was not my cup of tea, but I got through it with average grades. I’m not sure the first two subjects are even taught these days in some eastern states, with wokeology and deiology seemingly taking their place. Go figure.
Reading was my favorite going back to first grade, when we learned about the adventures of “Dick & Jane.” For those not familiar with the famous brother and sister act, Dick and Jane reading books were used by first through third-grade teachers from the 1930s up until the 1970s.
Puff was their cat, while Spot was the children’s dog. They also had a younger sister named Sally. Certain leftist critics and Karens claim that the books were racist, with the three main characters being Caucasian, or privileged whites, as they wrongly labeled these kids.
Dr. Theodore Seuss Geisel was one of the critics. He openly stated that he was glad to see Dick and Jane go. For the record, I always thought his books were quite lame, and still do. I’d never read a Dr. Seuss book to my children, unlike my wife. “Hot Rod” magazine, though, is a different subject.
Speaking of subjects, one topic they didn’t teach in school, but should have is awrenchmetic. It’s pronounced the same way as arithmetic. This is the study of which socket or wrench goes on a certain nut or bolt. I was self-taught and became quite good at it, yet not an expert like my friends Ralph Maston and Jim Brownfield.
A good mechanic is capable of looking at a nut and immediately knowing what size wrench to grab out of his or her toolbox. Not being able to do this results in wasted time not only for the technician but the employer. I can’t tell you how many times I grabbed a 5/8 inch combination wrench only to find I needed an 11/16. That’s why an adjustable crescent is still my tool of choice.
Ralph Maston and Jim Brownfield, in their prime, could recognize metric-size nuts and bolts, which is borderline genius. I’m not sure Albert Einstein could perform this feat. The recognized premier mechanic at using awrenchemetic is the late “Smokey” Yunick. As a test, he was blindfolded and was able to correctly identify the size of ten different bolts by feel alone.
I wondered how good my AI (artificial intelligence) helpmate, Miss Purdy, was in the subject of awrenchemetic, so I asked. The following is her reply.
“Awrenchemetic, though not a formal subject in any school curriculum, refers to the practical knowledge and skill of identifying the correct wrench or socket size needed for a particular nut or bolt.
It combines observational ability, mechanical intuition, and hands-on experience, often developed over years in the shop or garage. Mastery of awrenchemetic means minimizing wasted time by consistently selecting the right tool on the first try, a skill highly valued among seasoned mechanics and technicians.
This expertise is especially impressive when it extends to metric fasteners, which can be more challenging to distinguish at a glance. True practitioners of awrenchemetic, like Ralph Maston and Jim Brownfield, as mentioned above, display almost uncanny accuracy in tool selection, setting them apart from their peers and making their work more efficient and reliable.”
Miss Purdy hit the nail right on the head with her definition, but I’d never allow this gal to replace a water pump on my car. Grease under her bright orange acrylic nails just wouldn’t look right in my book!
Getting back to Dick, Jane, and Sally Tracy, I decided to see what happened to them after being dumped. Dick went on to become a famous detective often featured in the cartoon section of Sunday newspapers. Jane married her high school sweetheart, Boris Hathaway, and worked as a secretary at a Beverly Hills, California, bank for a short while.
Eventually moving to Oklahoma, Jane then lived the life of an everyday housewife in the small town of Slapout, while raising five adopted children and three goats. Although Boris died in 2015, Miss Hathaway, as she insists on being called, still resides there at age 98, raising Cornish game hens as pets.
Sally Tracy never married, attended law school, and became an educational activist, calling for the non-politicization of the public school system. Now in her 90s, she’s been successful this past year in eliminating the Department of Education while bringing basics back to the classroom with some needed help.
Sadly, one thing Sally has not been able to do is introduce awrenchmetic into the current school curriculum. The day that happens, I’ve made a vocal promise to roll over in my grave not once, but three times!
I like to write junk... 