I'm a second generation machinist. I grew up in my dad's shop. He was chief engineer, owner, and machine operator when it was needed. I remember him standing there late at night, night after night, running a machine just to get an order done by the deadline, He'd always be smoking Luckys and drinking Canadian Club chased with a Schlitz. Unless The Monkees were on television, Mom usually made me help him. He would work on producing parts, and I would stack them into wooden trays, and stand around fidgeting and driving him mad until he handed me another part. He always had a lesson for me. He was always there to show me what speed to run a certain size drill bit or end mill or yell at me for not sweeping up the swarf. Miss him.