Another battle in the eternal struggle between wives and "car guy"
husbands has been lost, folks. You know what I mean. HE wants just a
little time to play in the garage, but SHE has some great plan to
visit Aunt Matilda, or select tile for the kitchen floor,
or....ANYTHING that will keep him out of the garage. Familiar, right?
Most years I plan to start my spring Tiger improvement project while
watching the Daytona 500 on the tube. I put a TV in the garage, and
start sorting spares, disassembling something, making up parts orders,
or whatever. I usually start warning her around mid January. Don't
plan anything for that Sunday afternoon, Dear. Doris's task is, of
course, to create some non automotive, family or house oriented
activity to destroy my plan. The sudden need for a chair rail on a
curved wall, is but one example of her plotting. She's good, but more
often than not, I can pull it off.
Not this year. Before I even started the warnings, I'm out of
business. The Tiger will NOT be touched that weekend. Even if I
wanted to. No way. I won't even be in the same county. Not the same
state.
Way back last spring we went down to Maryland to visit Ira, an old
college buddy, and his family. After graduation Ira and I hung around
together for a few years (before he moved south), messing with cars,
going to races, all the usual. We never expressed it, but I'm sure we
both felt that we'd better get lots of play time in before getting
tied down with wives, houses, kids, etc. We journeyed to the Grand
Prix in Monaco and bounced around Europe for a couple weeks, and did
the Long Beach Grand Prix, back when it was F1. We had Indy 500
tickets, but Ira was in the middle of planning his wedding that year,
and he couldn't make it. I met Doris the next year. Our growing
families have visited back and forth many times.
Anyway, it was during this visit that our wives hatched the plan to
seize control of the Feb. 14 weekend, perfecting it over the summer.
It was recently sprung on both of us, cleverly disguised as Christmas
presents.
So instead of sitting in my cold Massachusetts garage, changing my
backwards wheel studs and checking tire clearances with my new mags,
while watching Mark beat Jeff on the tube, I'll be sitting outside
near the shores of Lake Lloyd, only able to daydream about what I
could be doing to the Tiger. Well, we will be watching Mark beat
Jeff, but not on the tube.
Yes, that's right. Ira and I were presented with tickets for the
Daytona 500. The Weatherly grandstand, just opposite the pit
entrance. We're going to have to drag our tails all the way down to
Florida, and stay with some of Ira's "in-laws" just a couple miles
from the track. We'll have to sit outside all afternoon, in all that
sun and noise. And the wives or kids aren't even coming along to help
us carry stuff. How much are we supposed to put up with, anyway?
Don't let this happen to you! Wives are getting even trickier than
they used to be! Guard your Tiger time carefully!!!
Now, the only problem is, how will we get our "revenge"?
Stu
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