In the late '60s I crossed the country with my toolkit (my dog and my MGA convertible with no top or hood) and a bit of knowlege and whenever I ran out of gas I would hustle up a tuning. Somewhere in or about Wyoming I ran out near a church on a Saturday morning. I parked the dog outside and entered, toolkit in hand. It was an apostolic church of God. The preacher was on the stage along with two church ladies, who were sitting knitting something or other. The preacher was at the upright piano and he had the front door off and was about to apply a socket-wrench to the tuning pins. I enquired, "Do you need any piano tuning done?" The ladies stopped knitting. The preacher stared at the bearded (likely barefoot too in those days) tuner and entoned: "He's come!"
This PTG archive page provided courtesy of Moy Piano Service, LLC