I was honored to provide the main narration and some character voices for the audiobook of \"The Last Open Road\" written by B.S. Levy. A truly enjoyable book filled with lots of humor and emotion, I'm particularly proud of my work on it.
Middle Aged (35-54)
North American, US General American (GenAm), US New York (New Jersey, Bronx, Brooklyn), US West Coast (California, Portland)
Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
Hi. My name's Buddy Palumbo. And I guess this stuff all started back in the spring of 52 when I was working as head mechanic at Old Man Fins. Eos Sinclair station in Passaic, not a year out of high school. Actually, I was more or less the Onley mechanic working at the Sinclair back then on account of old man Finzi. Oh, wasn't exactly what you could call a wiz around a set of tools, which made you wonder why he picked the garage business in the first place. But you couldn't just flat out asked him. Hey, *******, Why'd you ever want to go into the garage business? Because he spit right in your eye? This tough crew cut ex Marine named Butch Bo Hunk was chief mechanic at the Sinclair back then, And for my money, he was a sharp as they come, especially when it came to Ford's. Bush had a beat up old Ford himself. I think it was a 40 but you could hardly tell from the rust, and I swear he kept that heap running by just thinking about fixing it. Honest he did. I don't know if you've noticed, but automobile mechanics generally drive the sorriest looking cars on the highway like the old story about the shoemaker's kids. You know, that's because mechanics understand precisely what's wrong with an automobile and consider it a matter of professional pride to see just how long they can keep it running a mechanical sympathy alone. Fact is, butchers Ford was so raggedy that old man Finzi Oh made him park it out behind the building where the paying customers couldn't see it. I remember Butch took me for a ride across town one afternoon, and I swear the wheel was shaken so bad he could hardly hang on. She Chris Bush. What the **** is wrong with this steering? Uh, I got me a busted shock and bent rim in the left front, and it's just about finished off the damn tie Rod end. He fished a cigarette out of his pocket and calmly lit up just to show me it was nothing to worry about, you know, Come to think of it, that cigarette lighter was about the only thing on the whole damn dashboard that worked anyhow. We were flying down this side street north with everything wobbling and shaken so bad. You could hardly focus. And I had to swallow a couple times before I finally got up the nerve to ask. She's Bush. So this sort of, you know, taking tourists. He took a long, deep draw through a fresh pall mall as he thought it over. No, I don't expect so not unless the whole damn wheel falls off. Now, General opinion around Passaic held that Bush was a pretty mean article, mostly on account of he get into bar fights and scrapes with the law every now and then when he drank and recreational drinking with something he did on a pretty regular basis. But Bush always treated me right. No matter what anybody else thought about him. He was a burly beat, a fireplug sort of guy with tattoos all up and down his arms and a nasty scar down his forehead from the front of his Marine crew. Cut clear through the arch of his left eyebrow damn near, took his eye out whatever it was, Uh, sometimes when he was working on a bolt, he couldn't see your pouring oil until a crankcase, but should get the strange far away look and tell me the story of how he got that scar. It was always something different. So I knew it was all ********, right? But they were some pretty need stories anyway, each one uglier and go earlier than last. Sometimes the old man and get himself worked up into a foamy mouth frenzy on a job, Kerson and beaten and heating it up Cherry red with the torch. And eventually he'd have no choice but to shuffle over and asked Bush to bail him out a butch. Could you maybe come over here and take a look at this, which always pretended like he didn't quite hear the first time. So the old man and have to ask him again on Lee Louder this time. Hey, Butch, could you maybe come over here and take a look at this? But But you keep it up until the old man was beet red and bellowing right in his ear. Then he turned around real slow and say, Gee, was old man, You got a yell that drove the old man nuts
Grumpy Old Man, Smoker, Storyteller, Trucker, Regular Joe, Aged, Animated, Annoying, Burly, Engaging, Humorous, Tough, Grizzled, Cool, North American, US General American (GenAm), US New York (New Jersey, Bronx, Brooklyn), US West Coast (California, Portland)