This very week every year floods our city with thousands, and I do mean thousands, of classic cars, hot rods, old, new, and everything in between. Included in this flood of cars and people is usually the privilege of a visit from my son. I use the term visit loosely, as frankly he is usually only home long enough to eat, sleep a few hours, shower, and he is off again to see the cars. Hey, I'll take whatever I can get. HA! Seriously, why his first word was not car I will honestly never know. That is all he has eaten, wanted, and dreamed of since he was old enough to blink an eye. If it has 4 wheels, a hot rod engine, and a beautiful paint job, he is all over it. His room decor as a child was not "girly" posters and rock bands, it was hubcaps and engine parts and the endless stream of models he assembled.
When he was about 2 or so, I was working the night shift and as a young couple we didn't have the luxury of being able to afford daycare so I could sleep during the day. So, I napped when he did and just did the best I could. Well, one day, after about 6 days straight of 12 hour night shifts my body revolted and hit the wall. I was out cold from exhaustion. I awoke with a start a hour or so later, to hear a strange sound coming from the dining room. It was like a dull roar, humming sort of noise. I rushed into the room and stopped dead in my tracks.
There was my adorable little boy sitting on his knees on the carpeted floor. In front of him was the new tub of whatever-cheapo-brand of 3 pound tub of margarine dumped out in a large mound. He had a Matchbox monster truck in each hand, making the "engine revving noises", repeatedly running up and over the mound with both trucks. He had also creatively devised a "circle track" of margarine surrounding the mound and had a variety of other cars "parked" along the edges of the track. I will never forget seeing this giant disaster on the carpet and shrieking at him, "What in the world do you think you are doing young man?!!???!!!"
He looked at me with that beautiful devil smile he has, batted his dark brown heavily lashed eyes at me and said, "Look Mommy! I made a mud bog! Wanna play?" I was so tired, exhausted and stunned, I just sank to the floor and began to cry. He ran to me, threw his little arms around me, and kissed my cheek. "Don't cry Mommy! I'll let you have Bigfoot, I know you like him best!" he said.
So, this sweet, devilish child is now a successful auto repair technician with a college degree and also does tow truck driving in addition to this. His dream has been realized. His work is flawless, his attention to detail is beyond explanation. His common sense however, still registers about a minus 50. Two weeks ago he entered the local car show in his home town with his newly painted black-with-pink-flamed Mustang and won first prize! Not to be satisfied, he entered same said car into the burn-out competition and blew up his clutch! Same devilish child has now had to take the bus to work 30 miles away daily for two weeks and forked out over 600 big ones and three days straight of destruction and reassembly of his car. Did he learn his lesson? I'm not holding my breath as he did the same thing 2 years ago with his Maverick. Pretty sure its a genetic thing.....
But now, she's running like a charm and he is headed to see Mom tonight after work so should arrive by early morning. The man who spents 8-16 hours per day fully immersed in cars spends his vacation here looking at more cars. Did I mention he is also bringing the fiance, her mom, her aunt, and her cousin so we can go wedding dress shopping while he drools over cars? Oh, and did I also mention he is bringing a coworker who happens to be his bosses son? Oh hell, bring it on!
So folks, let the good times roll! Me, I gotta go hide the margarine.