Doghouse

A Good Son

I was dreaming and in that dream I was talking and walking with a man who suddenly asked if I wanted and old car that needed to be fixed up. I said yes, even though I did not know the man. It was an old jaguar convertible of some sort and the paint was ruined and the interior needed much work, but it was very sound mechanically.

So the man drove it over and dropped it off on a small backstreet near an old school and we began to work on it, or rather, I did.

I was painting the hood with long spraying strokes and hoping I did not put too much pain down. Then I had an appointment. When I came back it occurred to me that The Boy would like to work on it also and that I would need his help regardless.

I walked past the car and down the alley where I saw him shooting hoops with a friend. When he saw me, he said something to the other and dropped the ball and grabbed up his sweater. I draped my arm over him as we walked and I said “I have something to show you”.

“I already worked on it,” he said. I smiled down.

“Really”.

Sure enough when I got there the tail lights and various others aspects of the body had been masked off and the paint had been put down clean and true. I tosseled his hair and said “nice job son.”

The car was coming along and we just had the last few panels to paint when his sister trotted up, opened the door (we both cringed for a second) and plopped down in the front seat.

“How’s it going Mac?” she grinned.

The Boy looked at me and I him and we just shook our heads, smiled and kept on working. 

posted by Obi-Mac BakDon @ 6:18 PM