Cathleen Allison/Nevada Appeal
Unable to understand the instructions to repair his Harley-Davidson motorcycle, Fred Hitchcock threw the owner's manual down in frustration. In that moment, he made the decision that would change his life.
"I'm ready," he told his wife, Vicki.
After a lifetime of struggle and years of encouragement from his wife to get help, Hitchcock finally resolved to learn to read.
Vicki called Jan Whitemore at Carson City Literacy Volunteers and scheduled the first appointment.
"I was embarrassed to read out loud to Jan that first day," the 57-year-old Gardnerville Ranchos electrician recalled.
It stemmed from years of being told he was lazy by teachers and tutors who didn't understand why a smart child wasn't learning to read.
"I got so tired of hearing I was lazy," he said.
But that was nothing compared to the treatment he got from his classmates.
"Of course the bullies go after you," he said. "You knew when it was your turn to read out loud all the kids were going to laugh at you. You broke out in a cold sweat."
Unable to live up to the standards of his straight-A sisters and brilliant brother, Hitchcock dropped out of high school in San Fernando Valley, Calif., to join the Marines at 17.
He went on to get his GED, but suspected they just gave it to him.
It wasn't until 10 years ago that a former neighbor, who was a middle school teacher, suggested he could be dyslexic.
"I didn't realize I had dyslexia, I just figured I couldn't read," he said. "I was just dumb when it came to reading."
Like many people, he assumed that dyslexia meant words appeared backward. However, in his case words can move from one line to another, some letters are transposed and sometimes he doesn't see E's.
"Man, that can really mess you up," he said.
Working with Whitemore, he began to understand the disorder and how to compensate.
"I wish they would have taught a course like this when I was in school. It would have helped so much," he said. "I was in so many special classes for reading in elementary school that didn't help me one bit."
Hitchcock completed his yearlong course in March, and says his life has been transformed.
"I think it was the most effort I ever put into something education-wise," he said. "But it was something I had to do."
When he used to tell people he read something, he really meant his wife read it to him.
"Now when I say it, I really read it."
He recently took a trip to Sturgis, S.D., and stopped at several markers along the way to read about historic and other notable sites.
He particularly remembers the one at the Devil's Tower.
"I actually read the whole damn thing, where before I would kind of hope someone would read it out loud."
After a lifetime of faking his way through, he's now able to read things on his own. Like a book.
"I'm 57 years old and I've never read a book from cover to cover until now," he confessed.
It was "Marley and Me," and he came to the same conclusion as any bookworm.
"The book's far better than the movie."
He's now got plans to check out from the library a series of books written by a popular motocross racer, and he's regularly reading magazines about motorcycles and fishing.
"I read the heck out of them," he said.
Sometimes he wonders why he waited so long to get help and wants others to learn from his example.
"I wish there was a way to get people not to be ashamed and go to that class," he said.
For now, he's focusing on his own family.
From looking through old writings, he's concluded his mother must have also been dyslexic, a hereditary disorder.
He believes his son may have some form of it and has cautioned him to monitor his own daughter.
Hitchcock, who was a single father until he married Vicki when his son was 10, never read to his boy.
But that may change with his 1-year-old grandbaby.
"I would definitely try it with her, oh yeah," he said. "I'd just have to make sure no one else was around."