Have you heard the words of the working man? The humble man? The quiet man? No grandstanding for him, his politics are his own, his beliefs rock solid. No need for debate. The sales call, the cold call, the margin call, these are for other men. Not in his wheel house, not on his wish list. No chrome spinners, no loud exhaust, the spot light holds no allure. In by 8 and home by 6, snow shoveled, hedges trimmed and everything in its place. But still, he does plays the game. As a living, breathing human being the need to be noticed is the nature of the beast. Head down, nose to the grindstone his hands speak for him. His legacy will not be some polished soliloquy, some candy coated breeze. What he does is who he is. Metal, wood, leather and wires, transistors, chips and a million other things moulded by his touch, bent to his will, these are his voice, the mirror that reflects what you might not have noticed before. Quite literally the ghost in the machine.