My Dad used to be a farrier. He went to a blacksmith college in Oklahoma, which was the only post-HS schooling he has had. It's a very dangerous job, and most guys who are farriers for any length of time end up with serious wounds. All the lifelong farriers seem to end up with a limp, no matter how careful they are. My Dad stopped before he got hurt and he eventually started his own trucking company. There is now a shortage of trained farriers. My Dad handed out his last business card in 1979, and he still gets people who track him down and beg him to do work for them. They usually pull a mangled copy of his old business card out of their pocket. I'm always amazed by that.
When I was growing up, people would ask me what my Dad did. The conversation usually went like this:
"What's your old man do for a living?"
"He's a farrier." Of course, no one ever knew what that was, so then I would elaborate:
"He shoes horses."
"He SHOOTS horses?!!??! WTF?!!"
That's actually why my first girlfriend broke up with me. She thought I was the offspring of some sort of equine mass-murderer. Killing ponies always goes over big with the ladies ;-) She had a new boyfriend by the time we cleared up the misunderstanding.
When I was growing up, people would ask me what my Dad did. The conversation usually went like this:
"What's your old man do for a living?"
"He's a farrier." Of course, no one ever knew what that was, so then I would elaborate:
"He shoes horses."
"He SHOOTS horses?!!??! WTF?!!"
That's actually why my first girlfriend broke up with me. She thought I was the offspring of some sort of equine mass-murderer. Killing ponies always goes over big with the ladies ;-) She had a new boyfriend by the time we cleared up the misunderstanding.