His hands, much like mine, feel like an alligator's skin—the calluses like the ridges on the alligator’s back, the toughness felt in the learthey texture, and the cracks in our hands feel much like the rough edges of an alligator's skin.  

His mind, much like mine, is like a train—we won’t stop working until we complete the task. The gears turn, thinking of a more efficient way. We often have the same ideas and ways of doing tasks.

His body, much like mine, is like an old truck—tired from the years of back breaking work. Strong from the years of manual labor and working on the farm. Scared from the accidents with farm equipment.