Any question as to what makes Evan Smalley tick is answered upon entering his home — and his passion is making other things tick.

The walls, the counters, the ledges, the dining room table — much of the available space in Smalley’s house is home to clocks of all variations, shapes and sizes: stately grandfathers in the corner, hanging clocks with swinging pendulums, squat table-top models, clocks with visible gears and, of course, cuckoo clocks. He owns several thousand.

“There’s such a variation,” Smalley says. “It’s such an interesting hobby. I’ve had a lot of fun.”

Sporting a bushy gray beard, earrings, a denim apron and a twinkle in his blue eyes, the 72-year-old tells about the time he traded his late wife’s car for a clock made in 1830.

“She told me I had brain damage,” Smalley laughs.

None of his chronometers stand silent — Smalley repairs antique clocks, coaxing a rhythmic tick-tock from delicate machines dating back two centuries.

His interest began 36 years ago. He bought a clock. It didn’t work, so Smalley signed up for an antique clock repair course through an adult education program. He later went to four different schools four nights a week for a dozen years, learning to work with tiny pieces of metal that turn and click at the heart of a timepiece.

He’s spent years working with broken clocks, and Smalley says he’s spent more than a few sleepless nights trying to work through a problem. When an antique dealer or jeweler needs a clock fixed, he’s likely to get a call.

In his living room sits a “skeleton clock” in a glass dome, its chain-driven mechanism visible. It’s about 200 years old. It represents a bit of the history of timepieces. The clock was made in Europe by an apprentice clocksmith seeking to become a journeyman. When Smalley found it, the machine was mounted on a worm-eaten slab of pine. He brought the complex, elegant piece back to life.

An 8-foot-tall clock made of black walnut stands nearby, adorned with carved figures of a man and a woman. He found the beautiful timepiece in a San Diego storage shed. The gears were corroded, and the woodwork needed refinishing. He and his wife of 36 years, Loretta, worked together to refurbish the antique.

Smalley lost Loretta last April, and it’s evident he misses her. Pictures of her remain, along with her collection of dolls that complements his clocks and array of antique toys.

He gestures about the house: “I never knew she did so much,” he says.

Folks who know Smalley say he not only does excellent repair work — he has a reputation as a kind soul.

“He’s just a very dear person,” antique dealer Linda Ryan says. “I just really have the utmost respect for him. He’s an easy little man to love, and he’s very tenderhearted.”

Antique dealer Merrill Alling says he’s learned to take his clocks to Smalley for repair instead of trying to attempt the work himself.

“If I got a clock and it’s not working, I take it to him and he fixes it,” Alling says. “He’s like a wizard.

“Every once in a while and I’ll take a clock myself and try to work on it,” he adds. “Evan was joking yesterday … ‘If you bring any more clocks to me that you’ve worked on, I’ll have to charge you double.’”

Longtime friend Brion Mitchell says he’s not quite sure how Smalley does it.

“There’s so many of those little parts in there, and a lot of that stuff is 100, 150 years old, and he figures out how to fix it up,” Mitchell says. “He’s as sharp as a tack.”

Larry Kline can be reached at 447-4075 or larry.kline@helenair.com.