Vestal Skaggs lived across Highway 101 from us when I was a kid. He used to come over and help fix our cars and trucks.
One time I hired him to fix my 1968 Dodge Charger and I paid him with a keg of beer. I don’t think you can find guys like that anywhere anymore.
He got that old car running so well that I out-ran a California Highway Patrol one night as I raced from Crescent City to Klamath. It was so fast with the new 383 under the hood and a 440 Interceptor that I was parked in the driveway by the time Officer Johnny Jones zipped by Redwood Drive.
Yeah, it was bad of me and dangerous too, but Vestel gave me high-five when I told him about it. Though it’s a strange memory, I’ll always cherish the excitement he felt for my stupidity.