The brakes on the 2004 KIA were totally worn out -- all those backroads in Kentucky and NY23 -- so my 17-year-old son Jim bought brake pads and offered to do the work. (I've got the hillbilly-NASCAR driving gene; lucky Jim got the rarer and more valuable redneck shade-tree mechanic gene, a recessive trait.)
So Jim leads me to his friend's garage where he's going to do the work, and the friend turns out to be a 40ish dude who is (a) a huge Glenn Beck fan, and (b) an excellent musician.
Dude had a guitar laying around, so we started trading songs. I played songs I hadn't played in years, including originals from my 1980s rock-band years. Then we started swapping stories and next thing I knew, Jim was telling me it was time to go home. Didn't get home until 11:30 p.m. Good times.
Speaking of good times -- and the black 2004 KIA Optima -- here's a song they used to play at the skating rink when I was about 11 years old. If anybody wants to hit the tip jar, the brake pads cost $40 and, while my son's labor was technically "free," we have been feeding him all these years . . .
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