It was the kind of sweltering July afternoon that made the Mississippi feel like molasses. Mark Head Bobber, a wiry man with a nervous tic that gave him his nickname, sat on the rotting dock of his family’s bait shop. His partner, a hulking, silent man known only as Hand Jobber (a moniker earned from his uncanny ability to fix any broken engine with nothing but his bare hands and a greasy rag), was elbow-deep in a coughing outboard motor.
Mark, the fixer, with hands so bold, A head bob that means business, stories untold. In his workshop, where engines sigh, He works his magic, as the parts go by. mark head bobber and hand jobber verified