This gauge was given to me from my dad. When my grandfather passed away, my father's family decided to divy up the lot and hand it out to the respective family members. My dad gave this to me and said that my grandfather wanted me to have it.

Now, for the longest time, I kept trying to remember why the fuck I got this gauge. I mean, it was a cool gauge and I was happy that my grandpops thought of me but for the life of me, I have NEVER touched this thing in my entire life.

So it sat on my bookcase in my bedroom collecting dust. It survived the move into my first house and lived there, in a box for six+ years. Then, one day I probably looked at it with uncaring eyes while cleaning my room and tossed it into a crate to go into my storage unit. There it sat for two long summers in the un-air conditioned heat until today. I opened up boxes for two long laborious hours looking for this fucking thing. I deserve a got damn medal for my tenacity in well, I'll be honest, conditions not fit for human survival.

To set the record straight, I never had a great relationship with my grandfather. Hell, I don't think anyone did. We never saw each other for longer than a week every five or so years so for what it's worth, I guess we were fine with each other haha

He built the house he lived in for his familys entire life with his bare hands and was a county sheriff and a father of four. He was semi-rascist (to my knowledge as a 12 year old calling women dames and broads), was a total gearhead and could make oil caps from the top of a coke can and a ziptie. Not only owned a VW notchback and a 1200 but a PRISTINE Datsun Z which I got to drive to Disneyworld when I had just turned 16. Lastly and most importantly, he stored what seemed to be thousands of ice cold cases of Cherry Coke in a fridge in his garage.

*12 year old Jason* HE HAD A FRIDGE IN HIS GARAGE!!! GENIUS!

Anyways, not to get all sappy and sentimentalhere but I'm gonna put it in Roxy in one way or another. I dunno why, just seems like the right thing to do and may add a little bit of churchin' up to the old girl. This gauge resided in the plane my grandfather flew at Pearl Harbor on December 7th, 1941.

The funny thing is, the damn thing still ticks.

This entry was posted by JKREW, on Thursday, May 31, 2007. You can leave your response.