Car guys

My hubby is a Car Guy. Yes, it's capitalized. He's not just one of those guys who goes out, buys a car and gets it maintained at the dealership every 3 months.

No, he's one of those guys who does the work himself, gets all dirty and smacks his bald head on the underside of the car every...single...time.

He takes pride in the order of his workbench and knows if a tool has been borrowed by an unauthorized user (usually me).

We have too many cars. 6 is far outside the number of vehicles I ever thought I would own in a lifetime, let alone all at once. There is a reason for every one of them...I just can't figure out what it is. Only 3 of them run, the rest are in various stages of disrepair, or restoration if you ask him.

The downside is that there are often car parts soaking in my sink, the garage and shop always smell of some sort of de-greaser, and strange men call the house to ask about the *fill in the blank* car part that he advertised in the local penny saver ads.

The upside is that he really loves to rebuild, has a real talent for it, and doesn't cruise the bars looking for trouble in its many forms. I know where he is at any time; either work, the shop or the local pick-a-part. Plus, he gets this amazing gleam in his eye when he finds that impossible-to-find accessory at a bargain price on ebay.

Real Car Guys are a breed apart.