My neighbor across the street has been working on his truck for several days now. I have no idea what's wrong but it is in his driveway with its hood up and elevated on blocks. The radio is blaring in the garage and he has been been tinkering with the truck, trying to fix whatever is wrong. I have been watching him while he has toiled, dressed in his jeans and work shirt, hair messed, gray beard.
And thinking of John.
How many times have I seen John in the same predicament, especially in our early years when we didn't have much money and we depended on our cars so much. Truth be told, I know John enjoyed working on the cars and he also enjoyed the challenge of fixing whatever was wrong.
He would spend hours in our garage or in our driveway, working his magic. And he always solved the problem.
Later on, John had a business buying old car parts, refurbishing them and selling them on eBay. He had a little workshop in our garage and so often as I drove away on whatever errand I was off to, he would look up from his work, and smile and wave at me as I drove away.
I loved that.
Today I pulled out of my driveway and was off on an errand while my neighbor worked on his truck. He looked up as I drove past, smiled and waved.
I waved back.
And wished I were waving at John.