Men, Cars and Goop

Men. I love men who know something about cars. There is nothing that strikes fear in me much more than being stranded out in the middle of nowhere in a broken down car.

All our vehicles have many miles logged on them, except for my motorcycle. I'm working on that but it's hard to log too many when the darn job which supports the motorcycle habit gets in the way. Motorcycle season is not far off ... and I can hardly wait to go.

We were outside of Las Vegas on our most recent trip in February when we pulled into a casino parking lot to use the facilities. Gene always looks underneath the car to see what's happening under it. I guess a lot of guys probably do that.  Well, there was something dripping on the ground and he had to investigate it. Turns out nothing was wrong.

I don't think Gene knows what fear it strikes in me to think that our car might break down in the middle of nowhere.  Perhaps it's all those years of living in Alaska and driving between Anchorage and Fairbanks in below zero weather that does it to me.  In any case, car trouble always makes my heart skip a beat.

Trucks. When I first met Gene and he moved to Arizona to start a new life, we decided to take off on a very long road trip to Alaska, Canada and West Virginia. We ended up putting 22,000 miles on my old Ford pickup. The day we left on that trip, the truck was making a peculiar noise. Gene said, "just turn up the radio". Really??? I'm pretty sure I've told this story before in a previous post (months ago) but we made it all the way to W. Virginia and back. That old Ford got sold to a friend before we left Arizona and long-story short, we have it back now. That baby has over 200,000 miles on it and Gene took me for a ride in it two weekends ago. Runs like a dream! She's not beautiful as she once was. As a matter of fact, I refuse to drive her to work. She's Gene's work truck now.

I'm intrigued when I meet women who know how to fix cars.  They are far and few between but I've met a few. I can change a tire and I know how to put oil in the car and check and add the transmission and brake fluid. I learned a lot from a former brother-in-law who owned a gas station in Fairbanks where I pumped gas when I was 19. 

I also learned a lot from my dad. Mostly how to cuss really good when something doesn't go right under the hood. He used to holler for one of us to come out to the garage and hold a wrench or grab a tool for him. That's how I learned the names of tools. I never heard my dad use the F-word except when he was in the garage. If he knew we heard him, he always had a look of shame on his face.  That's okay dad ~ today it's one of my favorite cuss words when I'm mad, too! I'm such a lady. It don't mean nuthin'.

Goop. If you have a mechanic living in your house, you most certainly have Goop somewhere in your cupboards. I don't know what they make that stuff out of, but it's a miracle compound. I've seen my dad's hands so greasy that I thought maybe it was permanent. Goop will take a stubborn stain out of your clothes. I don't get many stubborn stains these days, so I forget that little tidbit. It's non-toxic and biodegradable. I should be a saleswoman, huh!

Hmmm ... this reminds me. I have a shirt I tried to wear the other day that had a few cooking oil splatters on it. I should try some Goop on it to see if I can save it.

I love all you men in my life who twist wrenches! Can I bake you a batch of cookies for your trouble?

love, susan