Relativity

I have always been a big fan of the brilliant, although not very attractive, Albert Einstein. I mean, this guy came up with the theory of relativity by watching a clock. He was bored, watching the clock, waiting for something to happen, and it suddenly occurred to him, “Hey, time has to be relative.” Now, I haven’t spent any significant time watching a clock. Okay, I haven’t spent any significant time watching a clock since I retired, but I think I’ve got it. 

Let me tell you a story. My lovely bride requested that we have our horse trailer painted for her birthday. It’s an old stock trailer that we bought used over 20 years ago, but it’ll still haul a horse and a mule to the trails. It just has rust. Before I get into the tale, I want to make it clear right up front, that this was not Ginger’s only birthday present. It’s important for you to know there were other gifts that she actually received on her birthday. I don’t want you to think too badly of me when I say it was over a month after the date of her birth before we even started the painting process. Remember, time is relative, and we live in a really slow part of the country. 

So, only a couple of months after Ginger’s birthday, we ran into a friend of ours, a horse trainer/stone mason/cowboy, at Tractor Supply. He was there with the troop of wannabe young cowboys who follow him everywhere. After reciting his list of needs to the youngsters, he sent his entourage into the dark recesses of the store to collect supplies while he talked to Ginger.  Like I said, it had been three months since my bride’s birthday so the question of where we could get our trailer painted came up. Okay, Ginger brought it up. The discussion caused an impromptu, prolonged meeting in the middle of the aisle. We soon learned that getting a rusty trailer painted wasn’t a simple matter of getting a rusty trailer painted. Before the painting, we needed to get rid of the rust, which meant sandblasting.

One of the boys knew of a paint shop just a few miles down the road. With directions and a description, we left the tractor store and quickly found the garage. Actually, garage did not do this place justice. This was the best-looking garage of any type I’d ever seen. I’ve been in less clean doctor’s offices. The shop sat on a hill and offered its patrons a nice view of the mountains. We walked through the big bay doors, and the first thing I noticed was the clean, polished floor (I could see myself in the floor), the chopped ’49 Ford, the Jaguar, and the three Mercedes. I suspected that these folks would charge us more than we wanted to pay for painting an old stock trailer. I suspected that these folks would charge us more than the trailer was worth when it was new. The proprietor assured us he could paint the trailer, no problem. We asked about sandblasting. He didn’t, but he knew of a guy who did. “He’s on Old Oak Road just past the bridge.” After we explained that we didn’t know Old Oak Road or the bridge, he clarified, “Take this road out here.” He pointed. “Take a left at the fork beside the big school just over the bridge, he’ll be on the right. Now, you know, the minute he finishes the sandblasting, you’ll have to bring the trailer to us so we can paint it before any rust appears?” I assured him we understood that rust was our enemy, our very fast, evasive enemy. I also informed him that we’d bring the trailer by for an estimate before we finalized the schedule. I didn’t tell him that I also planned to price new trailers, just in case it would be cheaper to buy two new trailers than to let him paint our old one. 

We found the shop on Old Oak Road. The first thing I noticed was no floor, no Jaguar, no Mercedes. The building was an old barn deep into the process of falling down. Its ambiance was supplied by a number of unidentified machines sitting around the yard rusting. If rust was his enemy, it was winning. I felt like we could afford this guy. He assured us he could sand blast our trailer, but, “That place you’re going to have paint it’ll do a good job, but they’re expensive.” I’d figured that much from the floor, the Jaguar, and the Mercedes. Luckily he knew of another shop. I hate to break up this party but the blog is getting a little long. I think I’ll pause this story here and post the rest of our quest later. Even considering relativity, I promise I won’t wait too long. Rest assured that Ginger does get her trailer painted, and it happens before her next birthday.