My uncle, the best mechanic I ever knew, died unexpectedly while on vacation last week. He retired from the Army before he was 50 and moved to the mountains of north-central California. LA was too crowded and smoggy, he said, and he needed space to relax. But his “retirement” was busier than most people’s working lives. He tinkered with and loved to fix machines, especially automobiles; he was always working on two or three. His unmatched knowledge of motor vehicles got him unsolicited job offers, which he usually declined because he had other priorities.
My uncle and aunt raised three handsome and successful children, cousins whom I’m proud to be related to (can’t say that about all my relations!). I spent one sixties summer with them (I get along much better with them now that we're all adults) in my first trip off the Hawaiian Islands. We toured the West Coast, driving all the way from Tijuana to Vancouver. My first glimpse of San Francisco was from the back of his crowded Ford wagon. I was enthralled by the city of bridges, cable cars, hills, and fog, where I’ve now spent the better part of my life.
After living most of his life in California, he will be laid to rest next to his wife on the island where he was born. Godspeed, Uncle C., I’ll miss you. © 2007 Stephen Yuen
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