When I was a kid I worked for my dad (Leon Moore) at his garage.

 This wasn't a choice, but it sure beat the alternative, which would have been a whipping.

This garage was located at the same location of the barn pictured above.

    I believe Dall McCrory converted the barn into an automobile garage.

The first time I saw Dall McCrory he was riding his black 3-speed bike.  I was out front by the pump island and Dall was riding his bike around me in circles and talking to me.  The first thing he said to me was "I'm damn bad Dall!"

  He repeated this several times for emphasis, as if necessary. 

At the time, Dall lived in the first house on the right as you cross the river heading north.

 Thought to be considerably wealthy, he never bought gasoline from us.  He would, however, on occasion bring his car over to have me check all the tires, wash the windows, check the oil, and so forth.  Because we did these services for free.

After performing this service, Dall would always tip me a quarter.

Even in 1973, a quarter wasn't enough to excite a twelve year old boy.  Thus at an early age I began to learn the difference between a man of wealth and a man of value. 

 Thanks Dall.