An afternoon in their shoes.

If the roller wasn’t broken this morning, Nick wouldn’t be standing on 300 degree asphalt in these fascinating, metal shoes.

Special kicks.

Smoothing the asphalt by foot.

But, the roller was broken, and so Nick stomped his armoured feet with precison and stoic patience until every inch of fresh black pavement was even and smooth. It was the first thing to go wrong for Dan Amorello Services on this beautiful Massachusetts day, but it wasn’t close to the last. It was only 8am.

I hopped out of bed at 6:45 and began minor preparation for what I expected to be a fairly brief visit to several driveway jobs in a brand new Hopkinton neighborhood. Anthony, fresh out of the hospital with scars to prove it, was my driver and we had a good time on the way over––singing along with the radio and finding excuses to high-five one another. Anthony is all about merriment, even before breakfast.

We arrived around 8:15 after a few misguided turns in a truck my father recently described as “perfectly functional.” Anthony agreed that it was a fair description, even though the breaks seemed shakey, but my dad checked it out after a few phone calls.

uh-oh.

Heres a fact about my father. He absolutely hates talking on the phone.

Years ago, after several consecutive calls to the house were ignored during a minor teenage mishap in 2004, I questioned his refusal to participate in modern communication but he remained confident in his telephone rejection. “Dad, what if I was calling because I had an emergency?” I argued.

“Well, Alison,” he said calmly, “if I never pick up, it never becomes MY emergency.” …A little twisted, yes. But you can’t argue with that kind of logic.

Unfortunately, his work phone can’t be ignored, so I watched as calls came in with information and questions about jobs––bad news of broken equipment and related issues. As if the phone ringing isn’t bad enough.

He always made the effort to call me though. Whenever he checked in while I was away, he’d ask, “How are you?” and I usually said “OK.” One afternoon, after what I suspect was a bad day, he told me I better start saying “Good” instead of “OK” because I needed to be more positive. He was right, as usual. Anyway, after many calls, he had a look at the truck.

Checking the brake fluid.

I stood off to the side, fairly uninvolved in the inspection until my father summoned me. “Have you no thirst for knowledge, Alison?” he said without looking up from under the hood. I came over and had a look inside. As it turned out, the truck is “perfectly functional” indeed. If only we could have said the same for that old roller.

The faulty machine.

You can’t tell in the picture but on the front wheel, there is a white label that says “Grease Machine Daily.” Because I’m a wiseguy I said, “Uh oh, Dad, did someone forget to oil the machine?” His eyebrows raised and he said maybe, as apparently my joke had some validity. Later, someone showed up with a second steamroller––one from the “perfectly functional” category and the sad machine above was oiled back to health.

My father made comments about what a beautiful neighborhood we were in. Someone, he said, had a vision and it became something so nice. I was happy to hear that, as I do think its rare that my dad feel that way, at least lately. Hearing his praise made me wish I had vision like that, but for now, I settle for a strange but decent blog.

After things seemed to be going OK, Anthony and I embarked on our own disasterous journey. Anthony was asked to go to do what sounded to me like a quick errand, which is why I volunteered to tag along.

5.5 hours later: I was exhausted, sweaty, irritated and thoroughly regretting my decisions. We drove long distances, got lost, had to buy a part for yet another testy truck, and mostly tried to avoid heat stroke. I learned some valuable lessons though:

1. Wearing jeans in 80 degree weather is infact as miserable as it appears.
2. Orange Coolatas are not acceptable thirst quenchers.
3. While keeping one arm out the window of the dirty, hot truck may help in staying cool, it does NOT help when it comes to farmers tans.

One of many mishaps.

I got a real taste of what it feels like when everything goes wrong on a construction job, and since we’re on the subject, let me tell you, I’d rather do anything else. Picture this: You’re frustrated and tired.

Now picture yourself frustrated, tired, sweaty, hungry and wait, there is still a lot of manual labor to do!

I’ve always respected my father and brothers. Today, in their presence, I acted like a wimp. I complained about the heat, being hungry, being dirty and I didn’t fake a single smile. I’ve never respected the men more who deal with it, quietly, everyday.

The team