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By DAPHNE HUTCHINSON
Rappahannock New* Staff ^ ritcr
“Hickory, dickory. dock, the mouse ran up the * clock. .
If there's a mouse running up the clocks at Gene Tucker’s house, that mouse could lay undisputed claim to the title of marathon champion of the rodent world.
Gene doesn’t have just two or three clocks or even a dozen timepieces in his mountain top home off the Fodderstack Road.
Elderly grandfathers bong solemnly from the corners of his basement repair shop, anniversary clocks tick from their places on display shelves. French antiques chime from counters and ’’Regulators’’ tock down from the walls with world famous reliability.
Every 60 minutes night and day. 30-some clocks sound the hour, creating a symphony of time that echoes through the house.
Other old timers wait quietly for Gene’s attentions, their innards spread across worktables in the basement shop. The more critical cases, rescued from piles of dust and rubbish, are stored in boxes scattered across the room.
Clock repair is a second career for Gene Tucker. But it’s become more than just a profession.
“I daresay there are hundreds, even thousands, of beautiful antique clocks rusting away in the barns and attics of this county. When I'm caught up with all the jobs I have now. I'd almost be willing to work on them for nothing," Gene said. "I hate to see such fine pieces of machinery gathering dust!”
Tucker has been a clock repairman for only three
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