Photo Friday / 5.16.2025
A wheel nearly came off my friend Abby’s car recently, while driving. It’s been a bit of an irrational fear of mine for years, but I didn’t think it was actually plausible. Apparently it is. At least when the car has been neglected and the wheels are each missing at least one of the lug nuts, and the condition of the vehicle as a whole is, well … questionable.
A quick visit to a local mechanic and a visual inspection later (i.e., an inspection done without really touching anything), and Abby began worrying that she might have to cough up three thousand-odd dollars for a vehicle she hardly paid more than that amount for. So, being the man that I am (a man slow to spend money but quick to get in over his head in projects he doesn’t fully understand) I did a more in-depth inspection myself, ordered sixty dollars worth of parts, and began two-ish days of sweaty work in my friend’s driveway.
The problem could have been fairly deep-rooted, but fortunately all that was really required was the replacement of some wheel studs. Still, I’d never done this specific job before. But the information I could find on the internet and from simply looking at the car myself seemed to suggest it wouldn’t be too terribly difficult. Also, the problem of money meant I considered this just about the only realistic option for my friend. So I set to work, and prepared to do some learning.
In this photo you can see the very real situation as it looked midway through the first day. That is, midway through tearing into a wheel hub for the first time and discovering how it’s put together and how I’ll manage to rectify the problem of broken studs. You can see the old toolbox that was recently gifted to me, you can see some Harbor Freight tools, some tools I found at a flea market up the road, some tools I borrowed from a friend, and some tools I rented from the nearby auto parts store. You can see the Rock Auto box my parts were shipped in, and the bits of wood that I had in my home which somehow managed to be just what I needed to knock out the old wheel bearings and put them back together. You can, of course, glimpse the vehicle which was the subject of this surgery.
What you cannot see in this photograph is the sweaty and mildly frustrated but very determined man who took it. You can’t see the grease and dirt on my fingers, the beautiful watch I am determined to wear even in situations where it might get damaged, or the overalls and Annual Camp shirt that have become my staple mechanic outfit. You can’t see my memories of being helped when I myself was in a pinch, and my vehicle potentially bound for the scrap yard. You can’t see the numerous people who have readily stepped in and offered their hands and hearts to me when I didn’t even know how to ask for help. You can’t see the look of anxiety on my friend’s face at the thought that she might have to spend more money she doesn’t have to fix problems she doesn’t fully understand, and you can’t see the confused gratefulness in her eyes that someone would help her out of this difficulty willingly without asking payment. There is so much that you can’t see here.
I photograph moments like this because though I can’t possibly capture all that’s behind them and the stories surrounding them, I can freeze a moment of the process, and choose to hold onto the memories. I can choose to work hard and learn what I don’t already know, and share what I do know. I can choose to help someone in need, even when I don’t know exactly what it will require of me. And for all the sweat and frustration that may come of it, I know from experience that the satisfaction of such acts far outweighs the burden. (It is also worth mentioning that hard and sweaty work is a joy and a gift in and of itself.)
I hope that you too have the chance to lend a helping hand soon, and that you discover just how much that help can mean not only for the person in need, but for your own soul.