I like where I live: I have one neighbor to the right of me, one neighbor to the left of me, an acre’s walk to the field that is currently filled with soybeans, and in front of my house, a slab of asphalt barely a lane wide and beyond that, horses and one of the most structurally unsound barns in recent memory. Seriously, the roof flaps in the breeze. In a storm, it sounds like a higher being is clapping for the calamity. But what that means for me is that I’m no longer in subdivisions, apartments, or worst of all, base housing. I don’t have neighbors that are so close to me that they can tell what kind of music I sing along to in the shower, and that’s a major plus. Another major plus? I don’t have random people knocking on my door at random times, asking if I could help them with their car because they knew I liked to work on my own rides. Look, just because I painted a Chevy step side in my driveway, doesn’t mean that I want to zip-tie the front end of your brand-new Saleen together because you drilled a parking curb.
However, I’m pretty sure that I’ve become that guy even out here in the sticks. One neighbor likes to come outside after work and chip some golf shots. No harm, no foul. And not really an issue when I find the occasional sliced ball in my backyard. As I was returning his…um…property…the guy asked if I could take a look at a gas-powered pressure washer that he couldn’t get running. Pretty much brand new, should have fired off on the first pull. I told him to drain out the year-old gasoline, fill it with some fresh stuff, then to pull the plug and check it. Two days later, he brings me the spark plug: “How does this look?” Closed, mate. It looked pinched closed. One quick gapping, a cleaning, and what do you know? The pressure washer works like a charm. Guess they know where to go to when their SUV starts to pitch a fit.
What about you? What was the moment that made you realize that you were “that guy” or “that girl” in the neighborhood, the one that was the automatic go-to for whenever the car made a sketchy noise that didn’t sound normal? How many times have the neighbors offered to barter or trade goods and services if you’ll just exorcise the demons from the minivan one more time?
I grew up in a very blue collar neighborhood where you weren’t a man unless you had at least some level of automotive prowess. Many of those men have now since passed, and have been replaced by manicured sissies, who wax their balls and wear “ready for Hillary” t-shirts. I’d like to imagine I’m not the only man left who knows where to purchase an oil filter, but every time I pop my hood, these bitches walk by and stare down my driveway like they’re looking at Harambe behind zoo bars.
I’m not sure when I became “that guy”, but if this is an indication of things to come, we’re all screwed!
In my opinion, you win the internet post-of-the-day with this. Well, well said, sir!
Had to fix a neighbors daughters car that wasn’t starting all the time, and my other one that is a little challenged trying to get my pressure washer to run. I have never seen any body pull on that rope that fast over and over. I dont know who showed him that method,but he was driving me nuts. Then when I was building streetrods–people would run into the wifes flower garden to gawk at them!
So when I bought the house with double lot in this nice NJ community in 2000 I checked with the town about building a garage. Fall 2007 the garage went up. Spring 2008 they started knocking. No I only work on my cars. No I don’t run a body shop. No I wont wire your golf cart. No I wont do your brakes. No you cant park your corvette in my garage over the winter. I just keep the garage door closed most of the time and park everything inside. I have to fix the publics cars at work. F off when I’m home. Like Skynard said “Don’t ask me no questions….”. Had one good car neighbor up the block, had a cuda then a vette, then a mustang, then a divorce, and hes gone. Now the last man standing.
When I was putting a new clutch and rear gear change in my brothers 57 Ranchero in my parents dirt drive way while Woodstock was going on and I didn’t even know it. It was all down hill from there.
When I looked in the front yard and had a dart two newyorkers for the 400 ‘s a gmc 4×4 on 38’s and a maverick grabber and wanted to buy more
after my first engine swap. i was a legend in my own mind
Vette in the garage ,one in the drive , a trans am in the drive , as well as a camaro . I couldn’t convince anyone im not the car guy . Its hilarious when people walk up to me and say , I hear you like working on cars……
I just stop them there. I have too many of my own to work on to start working on theirs . There are exceptions . A young married couple that are financially struggling . If the guy will be there and let me teach him, then he can donit next time . I teach by giving the instructions while they do the work .
Oh, when I had more vehicles in my yard than there were in the entire neighborhood…… I was 15. No joke…….