Mark Snowdon wrote:
>
>
> Yes Tim Taylor is my hero, all raise your torque wrench in honor of
> the tool man!
Last Sunday (Mother's Day), my 2-1/2 year old son Charlie and I sat out
in front of the smoker while three pounds of country spare ribs
slow-cooked to perfection under the lid.
I taught Charlie to say "barbecue."
We were awash in testosterone. It was a pure Tim Taylor moment, two
guys just, well, being guys together.
Life was good.
In two and a half more weeks, Charlie will go for a ride in a Little
British Sports Car with the top off, and he too will be shattered.
Charlie is the little guy who climbed into my friend Berry's yellow '66
Sprite a few weeks ago, stood at the wheel, and said "Wow, a cool car!"
when he wasn't making vroomy noises. Did that for an *hour*. When
Berry had to move the car into the garage (we were replacing rear wheel
bearings on it) and Charlie had to leave, he threw a total,
unrestrained, Fujita-6 tantrum. Eyes squeezed shut, nostrils flaring,
tonsils vibrating at about 8500 RPM, back arched like he was having a
seizure, heels drumming on the concrete as we dragged him away from his
yellow Spridget.
"Better proof of parentage than a DNA test, as far as I'm concerned," I
said proudly.
--Scott "Now, if *Binford* made an engine tilter..." Fisher
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