The work did finally start to pick back up again. Right about the time I finished laying back the grill and front fenders on a 1949 Cadillac, they started bringing guys back at work. It was good to see some of them return, and better to see a couple who didn’t get called back. It seemed that the layoff was also a way to eliminate less than desirable employees without firing them. Let’s just say that we didn’t have to worry about who had smoked crack the night before as we worked two-hundred feet off the ground. The boys were back, and the back seat of the work truck had fishing poles tapping against the back windows as we barreled down the highways once again. Full crews of tattooed, foul mouthed, hard drinking, hardworking, not a shit giving, tower riggers. And me. The guy that fished every day.
Fish or Die! 