Better Nate Than Lever

In one of the “Dirty Harry” movies, Clint Eastwood aims a Smith & Wesson .44 Magnum hand cannon with a culvert-sized barrel squarely between the eyes of a hoodlum who fingers his own gun’s trigger momentarily, then decides a stretch in the hoosegow is preferable to instant headlessness, and gingerly hands over his much smaller pop gun. Handcuffing the thug, Eastwood observed, “A man has got to know his limitations.”

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That’s darned good advice. Folks who know their limitations and play the hand fate dealt them without complaint go through life a lot happier and with less stress than folks who don’t. In my hometown, Nate Nuckolls was just such a man. Uneducated, unassuming and unimaginative, he contentedly earned his living as a service station handyman, wiping windshields, pumping gas, fixing flats and checking oil. He didn’t talk much, but the few words he uttered, counted. Nate’s exact opposite, Laverne Lever, was a classic air-headed blonde, overly anxious, overly educated and, being a lawyer, overly talkative. She brought to mind Will Rogers’ observation that, quite often, educated folks can be just plain dumb when got off the thing they’re educated in.

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One morning, Laverne wheeled her long black Lincoln into Nate’s service station and instructed him to rotate the tires. “Yessum,” Nate replied, asking her to park the car and leave the keys in it. “Make sure it’s ready by noon,” she commanded. “I’m going to Memphis this afternoon for a big meeting.” When Laverne came to get her car, it had not moved. Angrily, she berated Nate, wanting to know why her orders had not been carried out. “You locked the car and left the keys in the ignition,” he drawled. Laverne went from livid to limp. “Oh no! I’ve got to get on the road right this minute,” she moaned, staring helplessly at Nate. “What am I going to do?” “Well, ma’am, I can unlock your car, but I didn’t want to do so without your permission,” Nate replied. “Please — do whatever you have to do,” the addled attorney wailed. As she fidgeted, Nate calmly straightened a clothes hanger, bent a hook in one end, gently inserted it between the glass and the rubber seal, and worked it down to the door lock. After several misses, he hooked the knob and slowly pulled upward, unlocking the door. Ecstatic, Laverne congratulated him profusely for his ingenuity, and hopped behind the wheel. Before speeding off, she rolled down the window and asked Nate for the clothes hanger. As he handed it over, she twittered, “I’m going to put this under the seat so I’ll have it in case I lock my keys in the car again.” Casually shifting his tobacco cud from one jowl to the other, Nate stared at her with wrinkled brow, shook his head hopelessly, and turning to walk away, said, “Lady, you might oughta think about that a minute.” I imagine by now y’all have figured out the moral of this story: Better Nate than Lever.

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