Fixing a car headlight in the 1940s, Phoenix, Arizona


I've never really considered myself a handyman, but like most men, ahem, "of age", I like to at least try to fix things. I have a workbench in my garage, with a nice red vise, and a bunch of tools hanging up there, and well, at least I try. It seems to be a very satisfying thing to do. For what it's worth, I came of age in the era of "throw it away and buy a new one", starting with cheap pocket calculators. Most of the stuff I've owned, including the computer that I'm working on right now, have been "no user serviceable parts".

But like I say, the idea of fixing things appeals to the man in me, and when I look at a pic like this one, I think that I could have fixed a headlight in the 1940s!

I really have no idea of the actual name of this man at the Shell station, but I'll call him Ed. Somehow Brad just doesn't sound right, even though I want to imagine that I'm him. I own the station, by the way. And since you're a regular customer, and buy gas here all of the time, sure, I'll replace the headlight, no charge. They're on sale, you know!


Just to show how clean my service station is, I have an all-white uniform! Let's see, this looks like the right part. That sure is a nice car you've got there! Now, where did I put that screwdriver? Oh yeah, there it is, by the chrome rings. We'll get you all fixed up in a jiffy!

Me? No, I'm still driving the old jalopy, still runs fine. Got it from my dad, who was in the Great War. What branch are you in? That's good. What's that you say? Yeah, we'll get 'em. I hear that we're making progress! Any day now!

There, it's all back together. Turn your headlights on, will ya? Ouch! Those are bright! I probably shouldn't have been looking directly into them, my fault. Yeah, I'll be OK. How much? Well, with the gas, and this part, let's call it a sawbuck.

See you next time! Drive carefully!
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