Although the tractor and the pickup truck meant a vast improvement in labor efficiency on the farm, the transition to these vehicles from the mule was not so great as, in retrospect, it might seem. Most importantly, the early trucks and tractors could be worked on using essentially the same tool technology already in existence and familiar for working on pumps, pulleys, frames, wheels, and steam engines: it was a technology of nuts and bolts; wood, steel, rubber; gasoline and electricity. The gasoline was somewhat new as was the use of electricity to ignite it, but the necessary knowledge and skills were within the range of any farmer. In fact, it probably took more knowledge and skill to identify the configuration of a good mule or to grade cotton than it took to work on a Model T vehicle.
Although the design and complexity of tractors and trucks would increase from the turn of the century to 1950 and beyond, still the operating principles remained largely familiar to that group of men known as mechanics. These men operated and maintained machines based upon the simple physics of metal structures, combustion, gears and electricity. A handful of tools, a vise, a hoist, and a stout lower limb on a white oak tree were all that were needed to maintain either tractor or truck. An eight or ten inch white oak limb was sturdy enough for lifting the front end of a vehicle or for hoisting the engine out of its mounts. In the summer, the canopy provided shade. Although their skills would eventually be derided, "shade tree mechanics" were the familiar mechanics of the countryside, and they collectively embodied a set of skills and values that are defining features of self-reliance in twentieth century America.
It was the typical dream of these men to have a shop--a personal mechanic's workspace--located in an enclosed structure such as a garage or barn. A shop enabled the mechanic to come in out of the weather and to continue his work either at night or when it was raining or snowing. A "shop" was defined by little more than a workbench and a tool box or a few nails for hanging wrenches. Here and there, shops would be meticulously organized and each tool might have its location shadow painted on the wall, but typically the shops were a clutter of tools and parts scattered in a seeming chaos across bench and floor but always in a perfect order of recovery of the needed item by the shop owner. It was to these men that stores such as Western Auto, Montgomery Ward, J.C. Penny [when this now effete chain still sold things for men], and especially Sears & Roebuck sold untold millions of sets of mechanics tools for these home and farm shops.
These shops were a great source of pride of competency and craftsmanship for these mechanics. These were the men who could figure out what was wrong and fix it. They could repair an engine or a wheel or re-line a set of brakes. They could set the timing, replace the starter, or gap the spark plugs. They could replace the points in the generator or rebuild the carburetor. If the engine ran rough or not at all, they could adjust or fix it. Failure, of necessity, was never an option for them. The machines had to run and they were the ones that made them run. It has always been easy to identify them: they always smell slightly of oil and grease and their hands--knuckles and fingers--are a road map of small scars caused by slipping wrenches and protruding edges.
The advent of transistors and then of vehicle computers generated an entire transformation of this familiar world. The technology of both cars and farm machinery has shifted from electrically operated to electronically operated: most large power equipment now has some digital control component or "computer" in it. Although the small garages and mechanics shops still survive, many of them have closed or have shifted to old vehicle and small engine repair because of their inability to service digitally controlled equipment. The "shade-tree mechanic" has not disappeared from our county life, but people limited to electrical/mechanical skills have become technologically marginalized. Few country mechanics have the skills required or could afford to own the set of manuals it now takes to work on engines.
Any drive around this county and even casual inspection of backyards and barns will reveal the continued existence of this tribe of skilled workmen. The signs are sure: two or three cars sitting in a field near the barn; a partially assembled [or disassembled] tractor; a dozen or so tires piled against the garage; miscellaneous pipe, iron, barrels, steel, and motors around the edge of the garage. The mechanics are still with us, although their numbers are dwindling and they are not as appreciated as they were a few decades ago. In addition to the backyard and barn shops, there are many "small engine" shops around the county. These are the mechanics shops that specialize in the repair of lawn mowers, weed eaters, chain saws, roto tillers, and garden tractors. Besides the small engine shops there is another group of small businesses where mechanics work. The older terminology for these is usually "garage"--Limbaugh's Garage in Winchester--while the more recent terminology is "repair shop" or "auto repair" shop--such as Hawkin's Repair in Sewanee. The places and the skills, however, are much the same.
The outside observer often has difficulty accessing this passing world of men and machines and the parallel world of women and their houses. The requirements for understanding it, however, can be enumerated even if fulfilling them is difficult:
A sampler of shops and garages [link]
A working shop [link]
