My Dad and I get together every Saturday to work on cars. We had a good rhythm going in the Spring and it seemed like stuff was getting done. But then, I got another video game project. Then, I became single. Then, it got too hot. Then, I went out of town. In other words, a bunch of excuses got in the way. Every week that I don't do something on the cars, a little weight gets stacked in my mind. Not a lot, just a little. But after several weeks in a row, I can feel the pressure (that I put on myself). Determined to kick ass yesterday, I shrugged off the lack of sleep from staying out late the night before, hopped to my feet and was in the shop by 9am. This was going to be the start of some serious progress.

Keeping the unnecessary details aside, everything I tried to do was fighting me every step of the way. The final straw was when I handed Dad the drill just over the trunk of his '54. The little chuck key on the power cord swung just the right way to turn the 50+ year old back window into thousands of brand new little glass chunks.

I was done.

I started packing up tools. Which, surprisingly, went without a hitch. It wasn't even noon yet.