Junk Yard Bonding

What makes a seventeen-year old boy happy? Well, besides his girlfriend or computer games or having gas money to cruise around on... but what seriously makes the boy happy? The answer is simple.

Spending time with his dad.
And spending that time at a junk yard.

You would think it was Christmas around here. The husband took the oldest to the mecca of car-fixer-uppers enthusiasts. A place where you take your own tools, pay a buck to get through the gates, and stroll row after row of perfectly organized junk cars. Three hours later they showed up both grinning ear-to-ear.

A grown man had found headlights and door handles and other replacement parts.
A young man had found a front grill and a glove box and something else I can't remember.

Now they are both perfectly content working away on their individual projects. They periodically stop what they're doing to locate missing tools and grumble about how things are never where they should be. It all reminds me of the day I sat and watched them work on a bike. It's something I never grow tired of doing.

We may never have the money for satellite tv or other extras to entertain us.
But I've got a front porch swing and two fine looking men working in front of me.

You can't beat that for a Saturday night.