My brother Terry and I are both auto technicians. During a recent family gathering we began swapping stories of weird and difficult repairs we’ve made over the years. What was the toughest auto repair you ever made?

Nick Davidson,

Santa Barbara, Calif.

It was my first day as an apprentice mechanic at my hometown Chevy dealership and it was raining cats and dogs. I’d worked there the previous month as a lube kid, and business was picking up.

Elmer, the tough-as-nails dispatcher, pointed to this horrible wreck of a flatbed truck across the driveway and barked “Put an engine in it.”

He then added “Oh, it’s too big to pull inside so you’ll need to do it on your back in the driveway.”

Elmer was the toughest boss one could imagine. During the previous month I’d seen him hire and fire a half-dozen seemingly good mechanics and I couldn’t help but wonder if I’d be next.

The truck belonged to a building contractor, and was the most amazing vehicle I had ever seen.

What wasn’t falling off the truck was held in place with baling wire, Bondo or Romex. Everywhere the truck went, a trail of oil and smoke followed, along with some very descriptive graphics that had been added to both sides by a disgruntled ex with a spray can. I could sense the other mechanics’ relief and amusement as I pried the hood open to begin my quest.

For each hour it took to remove and install the replacement engine I probably spent two repairing damaged wiring, replacing broken brackets or trying to understand how this truck had possibly been driven in under its own power.

I asked for help only a few times or to borrow a tool, and finally completed the job in three very wet days.

I dreaded returning to the dispatch window and watching Elmer’s forehead wrinkle as he tabulated my time flags on the back of the repair order.

He stared at me for an uncomfortably long time, grunted and said, “Here’s another one. Pick up the pace this time. Got it?”

This job I dreaded more than the first. A diamond earring had been lost down the defroster grille of a Cadillac Seville. Accessing the defroster ducting and heater box was bad enough, but what if I failed to find the earring? It could be assumed I had pilfered it.

Tom, the shop foreman, in a rare moment of compassion, walked by and wiggled my ankle as I lay contorted beneath the dash and said, “I think Elmer likes you, kid. Two gravy jobs your first week and you haven’t cried or quit yet.”

I searched hard, sniffled a little and disassembled that car so far it was scary, but finally, I found it. The earring was stuck to some fuzzy sticky yuck in the back corner of the blend door housing.

Things got better after that first week. After Elmer had measured your grit, and you continued to perform minor miracles each day in a timely fashion, he turned out to be one of the nicest gentleman one could ever meet.

Brad Bergholdt teaches automotive technology at Evergreen Valley College in San Jose, Calif.

E-mail him at under-the-hoodjuno.com or write to him in care of Drive, Mercury News, 750 Ridder Park Drive, San Jose, Calif. 95190.)

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AP-NY-01-07-05 0617EST