"Jack" - insta-yarn

After Jack hit 60 and he'd lost another finger to the angle grinder, they moved him off the heavy machinery. Gave him a little area - still in the machine shed but off to the side - where he'd fix the bikes that management used to get around the naval yard. Sometimes, a younger bloke would come past and shake the chain link fence that marked off Jack's little workshop. "Rattlin your cage, Jacko" or some shite, they'd yell. He'd go back to degreasing a chain or changing a tyre tube, doing it very well, and knowing that they could never take away all the years around all the yard's steel and iron.