Spell it M-ahhh. A. N. I'm a man.
The Bo Diddley song played in my head this weekend as I attempted a little manly task with Mark (Kasey's fiance) and Stevie (nephew).
Sunday was the meeting of the families. Mark's parents came for lunch to meet Kasey's parents. Mark's car had a blowout as he, his parents, and Kasey drove in a caravan to her sister's house in the Ludo.
It was somehow decided that Stevie, now 15, should get the experience in changing tires, and this would be a great opportunity. I drove Mark and Stevie to the car stranded on the side of the road.
I want to pause to say that I have long been resigned to the fact that I am the least mechanically capable of the clan. I embrace it and know that I have some other, I hope, qualities that I bring. With that being said, I know how to change a tire and had felt pretty confident in at least that.
Things began a little slow. The car was jacked, and the old tire had been taken off. It was decided to jack up the car just a little...the car lurched forward and fell on the jack. I had a feeling something like this might happen.
None of us attempted anything. We accepted defeat and Stevie called Keith (his dad) to come help us. Mark, Stevie, and I threw rocks at a log protruding from a dirt pile until Keith came to the rescue. The tire was finished in about 5 minutes, and we were able to return home sans dignity.
Diary of a Mad Black Woman was already taken.
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6 comments:
Oh, but it gets better. The next day, some gangstas bang on my door and I pretend not to be home, even though they saw me looking out the window. The morning after, my little 12-year-old neighbor asked me why I didn't answer my door.
"Oh, I thought you were a student... uh... looking for grades."
He said he needed to borrow a jack. So I let him borrow it, along with my worn-in spare.
And then I realized, I can be CONFIDENT about my ability to change a tire, thanks to Jonathan's wonderful, manly guidance.
So, I helped them change two tires and I listened to his cousin's rap album.
Later that afternoon, everytime my door opened, they walked in and started asking me about my expensive electronics, when I wouldn't be home, if that scary dog stayed over here all the time... You know, the typical neighborly stuff.
So now, I let them borrow my gangsta documentaries and Family Guy and he comes over to "chill wit his boy," which usually includes discussions of how to do mostly-illegal things and get "under the table" money.
Sure, I might die, but if I ever get the chance to shout, "YOU'RE the man now, dog," it'll all be worth it...
It's a pay it forward thing, man.
Mark, are you serious? You're going to get killed. Also, I didn't know there were gangsta's in Mt. Vernon. It sounds like a place full of lily white people.
Jon, if it helps, I think you're very manly.
Throwing rocks at a protruding log is something a group of guys would certainly do-- you can consider it manly if you'd like.
Mark,
Seriously, I say, "Your the man now Dog!" like everyday.
Next to Kirsten, I don't think anyone knows what I am talking about. It doesn't stop me. I say it and then laugh at myself because I think it is funny.
I usually say it as a compliment, but I think I secretly just do it for my own joy.
Give my love to your new found homies and keep your hands away from their shorties. Try not to get too crunked, and may you always do yo' thang...kid.
I almost forgot, I do it in my Sean Connery voice. Not a close imitation but you know.
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