What is the real life of a car mechanic?

My father is a car mechanic. My home is in the countryside. I opened an auto repair shop and took my family to other places. I was less than one year old then. In the first few years, life was hard and work was sluggish. Three people huddled in someone else's food cellar.

At first, it was mainly to repair the water tank, because there was no money to buy equipment. My father's face is dirty every day. Anyone who knows how to repair a water tank will know that not only should it be welded well, but every eye should be transparent. Then I went into the water and blew through the pipe with my mouth to check whether it was welded properly. The guest urged me, and I didn't have time to check whether the pipe was clean or not, so I put my mouth down. Yes, it's dirty and unsanitary, but there is nothing I can do.

Then four or five years later, I saved some money, rented a small storefront and had a younger brother. The four of us live in the shop. The front room is repaired and the back room is occupied. In recent years, I have mended car tires, changed superchargers and repaired water tanks. Life is getting better and better, and my father is getting tired. In fact, I think migrant workers and repairmen are very disrespected.

Until I graduated from primary school, our store was demolished for greening, so I moved to the suburbs. But because my brother and I can go to a better school with convenient transportation, we rented a building near the school. My mother mainly takes care of the family, and my father is out of town and didn't come home at noon. In recent years, I have mainly repaired the tires of big cars and forklifts in the suburbs. It seems simple, but one tire is particularly heavy, from dismantling to repairing, and then. My dad has to work, keep accounts, cook, and share the work of several people.

This job is really hard to do,