Daily grist; it has been said that there is more to life than bluegrass music. Really? Who cares? JD Rhynes
This story starts back when I was a teenager in Stockton California about 1954 when I got my first car, a 1936 Ford sedan. What do cars have to do with this story? Everything as you will soon see. When I was a teenager growing up in Stockton, my ambition was to have a Ford with a souped-up flathead engine in it like the rest of my buddies did at the time. There were about a half a dozen engine builders in Stockton at the time, but the very best of them all was John Errecalde. If you had one of his engines in your car about the only thing that could beat you in the quarter mile was one of his engines that had more horsepower. But as the old adage goes, horsepower cost money and that was something I was very short on back in the early 50s, but John was one of the nicest guys I ever had the pleasure to know and he didn’t mind some of us young guys hanging around his shop just to see what knowledge we could soak up from the master. If we had a problem we couldn’t fix or solve, he was always willing to tell us how to fix it ourselves, knowing we could not afford to pay him to work on our cars.
In 1965 he and two of his associates that he worked with started their own diesel repair business in Stockton, and they named it diesel performance, and is still in business to this very day. Shortly after opening their doors they got a job that required lengthening the frame on a huge diesel truck, and that required the services of a good welder. That’s where I came in the picture. It was in the fall of the year and I had just been laid off from my pipefitter job for the winter. John asked me if I would be willing to go to work for them as a welder that winter, so naturally I said yes and the fun began. I worked there in the winter time until the middle 70s. John was the injector and fuel pump man for the shop and had his own separate room, with big glass windows, and was clean as an operating room, and not subject to the dirt and grit of the rest of the shop.
One day I was walking by his pump room I noticed he was talking to a young man, and upon seeing me he motioned for me to come in there, which I did. He said; JD I would like for you to meet my God son Chris, and we shook hands. John said my God son is a musician he’s going to start college this fall at the University of Pacific. Then he said, JD is a musician also, and Chris asked me what kind of music I played and I told him bluegrass. He said I love bluegrass and country music, in fact Merle Haggard is my favorite of them all. I assured him that he was on the right track and I wish him the best of luck in his education. He would stop by from time to time to see his godfather John, and if I was there he always made a point to come out and say hi. John was very proud of his godson, and upon graduation from college he started his own band and soon had a recording contract with a major label.
My friend John was 18 years older than me and sadly he passed away in 1995. His son asked me to deliver his eulogy which I did with much honor. After the service was over and we had laid John to rest, his godson came up to me and asked if I remembered him? Hell yes I remember you Chris I replied. He said that was the best eulogy he had ever heard in his life and he knew his godfather was listening and he really appreciated what I said about him. I replied; Chris Isaac, all I did is tell the truth about your godfather. Folks, you never know who you’ll meet going down life’s road, and the only advice I can give you is this; treat folks the way you want to be treated yourself. You will never regret it.
