The Changing of the Garage

Just a few weeks ago, my second roommate moved out and for the first time in my life, I have a garage space!

My car barely fits. It’d be hilarious if it didn’t also piss me off. But nothing can really be done about it. For not having to scrape the frost off my windshields every morning, I’d say it’s still worth it.

A week ago, I went to my parents’ place to start gathering up some of my tools. It actually made me really sad to do this. When I moved out three years ago, that was hard, but the garage was that last bastion of memory in some ways. It was untouched, really the same it had always been. When I would go over to do something on my car, it was just like old times. So many years, so many hard and valuable lessons learned changing parts. It was also a time to share with my dad, because even though he didn’t (and doesn’t) do much on the cars, he would also pop in every now and then and see how I was doing, give me a hand here or there.

A lot of agony and a lot of victory. Oh, those cool dark nights, test driving my car after a big change, windows rolled down to listen for sounds. It felt sacrilegious to separate those tools, mine from Dad’s, which together accomplished so much. (actually he’s probably just happy to have more space now. I think I’ve always been the sentimental one…)

I made a run to Harbor Freight to scrape together some of the tools my dad has but I don’t. I refuse to buy their sledgehammers, but how quality do you need needle-nosed pliers to be? I think I’ve only ever used them for placing and removing cotter pins on tie rods. So I scoured the aisles, searching for those tools I knew I would need the most.

I know the day will come when my parents will move out of state to retire. And I know there will likely come a day when I move far away. These are somewhat painful thoughts right now, but perhaps this is a small taste to help ease the transition. My parents don’t bother me about their cars, even thought there’s plenty I could still change for them. They usually just take them to a mechanic friend of mine, so they get a good deal and he gets extra money, and that makes me happy. When I was living with them, I kind of unofficially tried to help them with the cars as a thanks for free rent, and also because they’re my parents. I really should embrace this, it’s good not to worry about more cars than your own, but I sometimes feel a little bad I’m not helping them out more. I shouldn’t.

I’m trying to keep thinks simple; I have a pretty good idea of what I need and what I don’t, and I still need to haul a few more tools over. You have to move on at some point, I know, but it does make me a little sad, and I’m content to live with those mixed feelings for awhile.