This Range War isn’t in the “Old West”

Blog #89  By 1957 I was 10 years old.  Occasionally, I would be with my dad, on cardboard or a creeper under a vehicle in our Oakland, California garage.  I wanted to be helpful, and this turned out to be a series of mechanical learning experiences.  There were other ones throughout my youth, and as I struggled but then did something right, dad would often remark with one of two phrases that marked my success.  “Now you’re cookin’ with gas, Willy” or “Now you’re cookin’ on the front burner.”