Today I went outside and into the garage to try and get a few things done. It is sunny and almost 50 degrees. I wanted to get the lights changed in the landscape lights, blow leaves back into the neighbor's yard, and clean up my landscape beds. As I started to work in the garage, I noticed that my area was starting to get smaller. As some of you may or may not know, I run my company out of my garage. For the past three years, Encore Landscape has been run from my house. Reminds me of when my dad worked on cars out of the garage at home. But know with Lydia on the way and stuff for her piling up in the garage, I am beginning to lose the area I had so that I could work or do things that was not related to Encore. My space....
Is this the beginning of me losing my space for good? I can't help but to think of my youth and our garage. It was my dad's home or work away from home or work. A big part of my dad's identity besides his family was the garage. The garage was never used to park the family cars, unless it was the Corvette or the Camaro. Our garage growing up was used for my dad to make money, fix things, make things, visit friends and family, eat meals or anything else you can think of--except for garage sales. My mom and sisters were never allowed to have a garage sale and actually use the garage. My dad didn't want strangers looking at his stuff. I can't help to think how when we were growing up all we wanted was a little spot for our bikes or toys. And that spot was always there. It may not have been during the day sometimes but when it came time to go in for the night, our stuff was always safe, even if that meant my dad had to work around it while he continued to work in the garage. So, as I was walking around boxes in the garage, I thought how soon these boxes will be replaced with Lydia's toys, or projects for her, and then her car and that will be all right!!
July 4th 2009 in the garage because it was raining. But as you can see my dad is watching his garage.
I have good and bad memories of the garage growing up. Ok, maybe just one bad memory but I will get back to that. I remember working with my dad in the garage late into the night on a weekend. He would get home from working 3-11 at the steel mill and we would go into the garage to work on a car that he had to get done. We would order a pizza and work on the car, the furnace would keep us warm. Or we would be in the garage working on my 69 Camaro trying to get the molding put back on or getting some last minute cleaning done so I could get it looking good for a car show the next day. There was never a dull moment in the garage. It was as much a part of my dad as Encore is for me. When my dad's friends came to visit in the summer that is where they expected to find him. That may have been because the cooler and beer was in the garage. Heck, if the garage was not open, they would not even stop thinking that he must not be home.
I go to my mom's house now and walk into the garage it's like all those memories come rushing back to me. It's as if the garage is a spot where time has stopped and everything good and that one bad thing comes back to me like it was yesterday. I can see my dad kneeling down working on a car, with his shirt up in the back showing a little too much ass or him sitting at the desk with grease all over his arms or fingers trying to get some things done on the phone. The smell of the garage has never changed in the 20+ years that my parents have lived in the house. The radio was on 94.7, Classic Rock or 97.1 The Drive all the time and still is.
The first garage in Highland. I'm probably about 6 in this picture which would make my dad only 26. He was 20 years older than me.
So the one bad memory....... It was July of 1995 and my dad asked me to put gas in his Corvette that was still "new" to him. Now remember I didn't ask to go put the gas in I was asked/told to go and do it. But anyways as I was leaving a car show across the street from where I got gas, I ended up running into a car, I t-boned her. Well needless to say it was not a good thing. I mean I was ok and the car had a little damage in the front nose. So as I pulled up to the house my dad was getting out of the pool and going into the garage. As he was going into the garage, I told him what happened. Well that garage was not so happy anymore. There were lots of curse words being said and not really at me but just being said out loud. The keys were thrown at a wall. I actually don't think those keys were ever found. He was so mad they might still be stuck in the wood. I am not sure who cried harder, my dad or me!
I can't wait to have a spot like this with Lydia. I am not sure if it will be the garage or maybe it will be our yard. I am not sure where it will be but I cannot wait for her to have that spot where time will stand still. So for now, it will be the garage in mind. And I know my dad would be so proud to know that I am going to have someone to share those same memories that he and I did.
By the way, I still have the Camaro and now I own the Corvette and there is no way Lydia is going to be allowed to drive them till she is in her 20s and done with college. It will just be better for everyone, I think.