Life {In the Garage}

A few years ago, my dad realized something--Chris would soon be married and Jason had already moved out of the house.

Which meant that he would ultimately be living in a house with all girls. His solution? Build a pole-barn out back, a sort of mechanic's club-house, a refuge from all the estrogen.

He's even good enough to put up with me "helping" out--in some ways, nothing has changed since I was little. I'm still asking questions every five minutes and am still absolutely flummoxed when it comes to the identity of various tools, parts, and ...well, random stuff. (And did you know how much of that stuff is toxic? Is it really that good for you to be playing around with lithium anti-seize?) Anyways, since my Mustang is the current project taking up all of Dad's time, I thought I should be lending a helping hand in something other than the financial department. (After all, the only reason I can afford to put the 'Stang back together is because I finally got an insurance settlement check for lost wages and "inconvenience" after totalling out Dad's truck last summer) From my time in the garage, I've learned some useful things--how to change my own oil, replace the bulbs in my headlights and taillights--and some... other things. Turns out you don't need a Pilates ball to do balance exercises if you have a good tire. (Well, a girl has to do something when she has no idea what's going on!)

I also found out that I am absolutely not to ever bring home a boy who knows less about tools than I do. Dad doesn't even like the idea of boys in my life at all--I was teasing him and said I'd just date a mechanic while I was in Utah and man, did he get grumbly! It's funny to hear the tone of his voice when he's mentioning some possible maintenance that might need to be done that's out of my skill set and says "You'll need a boy to do this." In his mind, "boy" is a dirty word. Like I said, things haven't changed that much since I was little :)