It’s hard, tough, loud work. Lots of banging and ripping and hacking. Certain things have special value: big hunks of sheet metal, heavy shafts (like the axles we took to Freda on our last trip), and copper wire. Toad says in the old days he would have just cut everything apart with a blowtorch, but these days we work with tin snips and bolt cutters and a pry bar with a blade that looks like a giant can opener. We’re having one of those spitty cold days that seem to come out of nowhere these days. A cold wind is blowing, swirling together a mix of light rain and sleet. My hands are numb and I’m shivering. But I love working with Toad. Whether we’re cleaning fish or pulling copper wire from a pile of old vacuum cleaners, Toad just keeps talking. Stories, jokes, silly words, history, it all just rolls out of him. If you didn’t know Toad, you might think he was just an odd old man who talks funny, but even with all the nutty talk, he has a way of teaching me things without making me feel like I’m getting a lesson—which of course is the best way of learning.
