Boochie Shepherd

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There comes a moment in every man’s life that causes him to stop and investigate what he is and what he wants to be. This past weekend, I had that moment.

We had a gig in Rome, GA on Saturday night. Seven Miles Walking was there, too. Unfortunately, there was a very small crowd. That set the night off to a poor start. But we played and we rocked, and that was cool. Everybody loved it and we sold some stuff, so it all worked out, I guess. After packing up our gear, we began the long journey back to Decatur, AL. The other guys had already made their way, but I, of course, was lagging behind. I had an entourage following me and riding with me; some of the faithful Boochie Sheep. They included Jessica, Allison, Brian, and John Mark.

We get about 30 minutes outside of Rome, and my truck goes dead. Totally. We are at a gas station, and the poor beast gave up the ghost. This is a bad, bad situation, for I am completely and totally mechanically inept. We call into Rome and get a ride back to town from some of the girls in the youth group (much propers to Lauren Grace and Pseudo Nikki). We end up crashing at Dirty Bird’s place for the night.

The night was long for me. I tossed and turned in the heated stench of Bird’s apartment, cramped on a couch that was itchy and had a slant to it that kept my body from staying on the couch without some effort on my part. As I slept, I dreamt only of the fact that I was stranded and that no mechanics were gonna be open for business on a Sunday.

Sunday morning rolls around way too early. I crawl out of bed…sorry…couch at 7:56 AM and we leave at 8:15 AM. I arrive at Oak Hill Church of Christ wearing the shorts I played in the night before, borrowed flip-flops, and a “7MW is my boo” t-shirt. That afternoon, I am unable to locate anyone that can fix the truck’s faulty alternator. I am left with one solution: fix it myself. Normally, this is not a viable option. However, drastic times call for drastic measures. This measure was down right ridiculous…

I borrowed a socket-set and some wrenches from a member of the Oak Hill congregation, borrowed the Bird’s truck, and set off on my ignorant journey.

When I arrived and popped the hood, I almost got choked up. The mere thought of me doing this was absolutely insane. I am an absolute moron when it comes to any kind of mechanical situation. I had never used a socket-set, barely used a wrench, and NEVER taken anything apart inside my, or anyone else’s, vehicle. I fought back the tears and dove into the project, clueless as to what I had gotten myself into.

2 hours later, I emerged from the hood of the truck. I had removed the alternator in what appeared to be a succesful manner. I din’t know if I had broken anything, but I had the alternator. I took it to the local Advanced Auto Parts and acquired a new, shiny alternator manufactured by Delphi.. I returned to the vehicle, 30 miles away, and I installed the new alternator, or AC Generator.

Now for the moment of truth. I drew my keys from my pocket, nervous and apprehensive. My shaking hand moved toward the ignition and turned the key. The truck started. I screamed. Loudly. Not the kind of scream that you release in a moment of fear or horror. But the kind of scream that can only be described as jubilant; a scream that filled the Conaco parking lot and signaled to the men inside that I had completed the impossible. I got a thumbs up and a huge grin from the guy behind the counter, who had graciously supplied me with water and Gatorade.

I went back to the front of the truck. I guess I wanted to look inside it again. The belt was running smoothly; the engine purring like a cat being stroked by its master.

I dropped the hood and I backed away slowly, admiring what I had done. I looked at myself in the side mirror. I was filthy. I was frustrated. And I stunk. I stunk of grease and grime. I stunk of sweat. I stunk of testosterone. I stunk of manhood…

As I surveyed my project with pride, it came to my attention that I had accomplished a feat that I previously thought impossible for myself: repairing a part of a vehicle. I thought about my dad and how frustrated he used to get at me when I was a kid; we would work on stuff like this and I would daydream or just not get it. I thought about how proud he would be now. I wished that he was there…

I drove back to town and pulled into the church building, where evening services had already begun. I walked in filthy and proud of what I had done. I wanted everyone to know that I had crossed the bar. They just thought I stunk and that I was a gross dude.

I showered at an elder’s house and loaded up my crew. We headed for home in a fully functioning vehicle.

Some would say that this is no big deal. I guess, in the grand scheme of things, it isn’t. But it was a big deal to me. I conquered something that in my mind was impossible to conquer. To me, it serves as more proof that anyone is capable of anything.

brandon mc