Be the Adult

Click, knock, knock, click. Turn down the radio. Time to concentrate. What exactly is happening here? Oh, that's the unmistakable sound of a socket rolling around in my Honda's cylinder head. I pushed just a tiny but too hard, forced the spark plug further into the socket, pushing out the extension and leaving a half-pound of metal behind that had to be removed in order for the car to function. This has happened before; dropping a bolt from an oil line into the guts of a Kawasaki (magnetic, thank God), or the time I realized I mixed up two bolts on a BMW oil filter housing that took about five hours to remove, repair, and replace. The replay took about 2 hours. Or the time I forgot to put a pilot bearing in the tail of my '66 GTO's crankshaft on a clutch replacement. Holy cow, was that a disaster. This. This is the sound of rework. This is the sound of calling a tow truck in utter humiliation as your repair gets repaired by an actual expert. I'm totally kiddi

A whole bunch of paradigms shifted tonight. A fun-loving neighbor turned into the Chair of Foreign Language for our local middle school. People I only know through socializing as adults (Ragnar, Soccer, Running) are suddenly sitting in the bleachers with me learning about elective courses and locker assignments. I have no clue who their kids were, how old they are, or that the woman sitting next to them was their spouse. Apparently their kids are also rolling into 7th grade next year. Oh, man. I remember the morning after my wedding I accidentally banged my wedding band against the glass of my car window. What was that? Oh, that! Married! It was so novel. Even the word felt funny when I associated it with me. Then, the kids showed up. Same thing- leaving the car seat on the roof, driving off... just kidding. I can't remember much about those first few years, but I remember that feeling of, "Oh my god- I'm a parent! Now I need to keep some kids alive for 18 years. ...