Skill

Two years ago this month, I got stuck in construction traffic on Signal Mountain Blvd. While I sat, I saw this:

A backhoe was scooping gravel out of an enormous iron bin and dumping it in a ditch. At first glance, I took no real notice, but then something caught my attention. The fluidity that this backhoe operator managed was simply outstanding. There were no jerky movements at all, but rather, it was like watching a one-armed giant slowly playing in a sandbox. The backhoe deftly swung over the bin, which was nearly three times as big as the dumpster behind the school. It was massive and solid, but next to the backhoe, it looked like a paper cup. Over the bin the backhoe came and gracefully dipped into it. The apparatus on the end of the back hoe barely fit inside the iron container, but he never scraped either side of it. As the backhoe dipped into the bin and scooped up gravel, it scooted the bin back and forth about a foot, so lightly that it looked like the wind was performing the actual movements. That is how powerful this backhoe was. Then, the operator skillfully lifted the full backhoe, dripping gravel like sand through fingers, and arched it over the ditch before letting the gravel pour out. It was a cycle, but only one continuous movement, with no stops or corrections. I could not believe it. There were many men working around the backhoe, sometimes inches from where the operator was swinging the giant, hydraulic arm. One slip from the operator, and a man certainly could be killed. Yet, no one paid him any attention as he worked, not even looking or flinching when the gravel came arching over, mere feet away.

Behind the backhoe, a crane was setting down a gargantuan cement tube, I think to be used as a underground drainage pipe. But when he set it down, and the hook on the crane came completely clear, it began to lumber towards the road and the rows of cars stuck on it. A worker on the ground saw it and shouted, followed by another worker's shout. The backhoe had just released its gravel and was making its way back to the bin, when the operator must have heard the shout. Without breaking momentum or his pace, he continued to swing the entire backhoe around, past the bin, and towards the ambling drain pipe. At the same time, he backed the whole machine up and extended the arm of the backhoe, reaching out towards the traffic. The arm reached out, human as possible, and touched the tube with its metal fingers. Then, the backhoe rolled the tube back towards itself, lifted its arm and came down behind the tube to nudge it into a safer place. Still, without breaking stride, the operator moved the whole machine forward to its previous location, the arm extending and dropping simultaneously into the bin for a new scoop of gravel.

It was like some kind of choreography or dance.