Today was the grand opening of the shop where Big Red now works. I attended and was quite impressed with what I saw. To say that the shop is huge is an understatement. It's enormous. The owner, Mr. D., has been in the business of fixin' cars for decades and his specialty happens to be race cars. Currently, Mr. D's clientele are gentlemen with A SHIT TON of money who enjoy spending their hard earned cash on big boy toys. These toys they then take to various races for vintage cars. It's all very impressive. While the shop will take care of these select race car clients, they'll also handle daily maintenance and repairs. There's also a separate room, or rather WAREHOUSE, where such vintage cars will be housed and maintained. Additionally the shop boasts its own paint booth.

Besides the fact that this place caters to a very discriminating sector of the population, it's not that far from where we live (just across one bridge and over one river), and Big Red doesn't have to put up with douche-bag colleagues. Mr. D is a tad maniacal, but very appreciative of Big Red's efforts and doesn't stay mad for very long. Just think mad scientist meets salt-of-the-earth generous old soul. This has been a long and rocky road for Big Red. Just a year ago he was contemplating leaving the world of wrenching for good. He made it very clear that if this particular job didn't work out (he's been waiting for this to work out for a year and a half), then he'd have to revise the direction of his career. Thankfully, the job worked out, he's there, busting his ass, and comes home happy.

And that makes Mrs. Big Red very, very happy. Here are a few snapshots from this afternoon's festivities...
That's Big Red in one of his client's race car.
Yep. That's a 1940 Packard.
Now don't puke when I tell you how much this unassuming blue car is worth: $1,000,000. Yes. ONE. MILLION. Sick, no? One last observation before signing off. Rich white men. I think I've got them figured out, at least on a superficial level. Here's how to spot one: 1. They always wear their shorts (khaki Bermuda) or jeans (neatly pressed and wrinkle free) belted. 2. They don't like socks. 3. They prefer very leathery loafers or sandals. 4. They have no hair below their underdeveloped calves.

I'm sure Big Red will be home late this evening, but that's okay. He deserves to mingle and schmooze among the upper crust. By golly he has paid his dues and then some. It's about damn time the universe gives him a chance to cash in.

1 comment:

tara said...

So happy for Jesse! He deserves to have a great job! "Underdeveloped calf muscles"...love it!