Find…

I Had to Ride Into Pulaski for Mr. Goodwrench to Give Me a Buzz

Published August 16, 2004

I, Bernie Harberts, did not use generative AI to write or illustrate this article. Spell check and grammar check, yes. AI, no.

“Sit here,” Ron said and pulled a pair of clippers from under his work bench.

Ron aka Mr. Goodwrench at Murrey Chevrolet in Pulaski, Tennessee, 2004 — Ron aka “Mr. Goodwrench.”

“Car Brite” it said on the bucket and there was a blue liquid around the top. “On this,” he said sliding a blue rag my way. That made all the difference and I didn’t feel any of that “Reflect Satin Gloss Dressing” seep up into my britches.

“I don’t have my cape,” he said as he fiddled with the clippers and they went from rattling to buzzing. “I cut a lot of the other guys’ hair here in the shop. I used to cut mine off once a year about this time. But my wife won’t let me do it this year until we get the family picture done.”

We rummaged around the workbench looking for something to keep the hair from falling down my neck. In the end he tucked a copy of the Tennessean newspaper and a few Scott “Rags in a Box” down my neck. There’s the barber’s cape.

Bernie Harberts getting a haircut from Mr. Goodwrench at Murrey Chevrolet in Pulaski, Tennessee, 2004 — Mr. Goodwrench squeezing in a phone call between haircuts.

Ron began clipping away as Chevrolets were raised and lowered on the car lifts. Ron’s worked here nine years. He wears the Goodwrench shirt. He spins the wrenches. He answers the phone. He smiles the smile.

“Man, I feel pretty damn stupid sitting on a bucket of car shine,” I think. “I want to get a picture of this.”

So off I dashed out through the rear service door for the tent and out across the pasture with that great improvised collar of sports pages and shop rags flapping around my neck like some deranged Quaker late for church.

As I neared the tent, Woody caught a glimpse of me and darn near tore the cherry tree he was tied to out of the ground. Chimpanzees and automatic weapons he’d seen but this was too much. After he hit the rope and stretched his neck, he stood and flared his nostrils while I dove into my tent for the old camera.

I got the shot of Mr. Goodwrench shearing the mule man.

I’ve improvised many a crew cut but I had to ride into Pulaski for Mr. Goodwrench to give me a buzz.

(Thanks Ed Murrey and Ron and everyone at Murrey Chevrolet in Pulaski, Tennessee! The haircut has lasted all the way to Seminole, Oklahoma.)

More about riding Woody and Maggie from the Atlantic to the Pacific.

Let's Keep in Touch

Sign up for The River, the RiverEarth newsletter, for occasional doses of rambling and homestead life. Plus you'll get a free copy of my 155-page illustrated ebook 19 Million Mule Steps.

Just enter your email below and hit Subscribe.