Many years ago, as a new missionary-pilot, I was also training to become an aircraft mechanic. On the mission field, I must be knowledgeable and well able to manage all the mechanical aspects of the aircraft, in addition to being the pilot. Back then, I was posted at Harvey Young (1H6), a small airstrip in Tulsa OK. While in training, there is always a level of supervision, a safety net of sorts, but after three and a half years, I had gained enough hours/experience to apply for the certificate. It was with a sense of satisfaction that I placed my mechanic (A&P) certificate in my wallet next to my pilot license.
Days later, preparing to work on an aircraft, I had my tools carefully laid out and photocopies from the relevant maintenance manual on my cart. The mission boss insisted on photocopies, so original manuals remained free from greasy fingers, a practice I observe to this day. When planes are flying, aircraft enthusiasts are drawn to them like a moth to a flame. On that day, a man walked into the hangar without saying a word and began looking over the aircraft I was working on. He was from the FSDO (field standards district office). These FAA folks have authority to lock down any and all things aviation just on their word. I began to worry as he looked at the pages on my work cart, noting (actually writing it down!?!) that I had the correct manual. He even verified the revision date. Next, he walked to the opposite end of the aircraft from where I was working and pointed out one small nut inside the tail section. “There is only one thread protruding beyond this nut,” he said. “I’d like to see at least one and a half, especially on a control surface.” He wrote that down, too. I could feel the plastic of my new mechanic certificate begin to melt. Wiping my hands on a rag, I acknowledged what he said by proclaiming (maybe a little louder and higher pitched than normal), “I’ll take care of it.” And with that, he left. I stopped what I was doing and replaced two thick washers with two medium thick washers, bring the thread protrusion from 1.0 thread to 1.5 threads. I made a logbook entry, signed the work off with my name and license number, and returned to my original work. Several days later, the FSDO guy wandered in again and checked my work on the tail section. He grinned as he closed the logbook. “Nine out ten mechanics would not follow through,” he said. “They think I’ll never return to check on so small a detail.” He shook my hand before turning to leave.

Whatever you do, work heartily, as for the Lord and not for men,- Colossians 3:23