I Don't Blame Ya....

Traveling, in theory, always seems glamorous. In practice it hardly is. I was in Seattle all last week, and the city, when you actually get to see it, is quite beautiful. It’s situated right on the water with snowcapped mountains as a backdrop. The problem is that you hardly get to see the city. I was there all week and the sun shined for approximately 3 total hours of my stay. It’s no secret that it rains constantly, and I was prepared for that. I wasn’t prepared for how early it gets dark. Dawn doesn’t seem to occur till around 9am and dusk sets in at about 4pm. The sun doesn’t even stand a chance, it’s only got a 7 hour window.

Anyways…when people say they love to travel what they mean is, they love the idea of going to Paris, sitting in the shadow of the Eiffel tower munching on a baguette. 

In reality, traveling is catching a 6am flight to Kansas City, working for the day, having your return flight delayed for engine trouble, and eventually having to sit next to an obese man on the way home.  

What makes traveling such a chore is everything that happens between departure and arrival, airports are a beat down at best. Never once have I ever heard anyone say “You know what, I really enjoy the airport” If you were to be an airport enthusiast think about the things you would have to enjoy:

Crowds

Price gouging

Confusion

Long waits

Incompetent employees

Security checks

Terrible food

Angry & ignorant fellow passengers

Inherently, these things are the opposite of positive and wouldn’t ya know, I got the pleasure of experiencing every single one of them this past week. But let’s focus on the airport security aspect of traveling here for a sec.

I think we can all agree that airport security (TSA) personnel aren’t exactly the crème de la crème of society.  You don’t hear about many TSA job fairs on Ivy League campuses. TSA doesn’t attract the best because the job is probably even more awful than it seems. But their lack of an Ivy League education isn’t the only issue. TSA employees also seem perpetually annoyed, frustrated, and depressed. And I don’t think I can blame them, in fact we’re to blame.

I’m old enough to remember traveling prior to 9/11. And it’s no surprise that security is a bit more invasive these days.  Here’s a quick anecdote to prove it….The first flight I can remember was relatively short affair from Dallas to San Antonio, a trip for me and my brothers to visit my Dad for a long weekend. As the day of the flight approached my mother grew increasingly nervous about sticking her 3 boys on an hour long flight without parental supervision. At the time my little brother Jordan couldn’t have been older than a 1^st grader. He too was scared, which is reasonable for a little kid. Unfortunately, his fear only served to increase my mom’s anxiety, and a vicious cycle ensued.  In an attempt to ease the concerns of all involved my step father thought it would be a good idea to show up to the airport with my little brother and tour an airplane prior to its impending take off. So a few days before the trip my step dad and Jordan rolled up to the airport and within minutes was sitting in a cockpit chopping it up with some pilots, and receiving a first class tour of the plane. No ticket, no special arrangements, no security. They just showed up asked if they could take a peek at the 737 and were granted full access.

Safe to say this type of situation wouldn’t happen today, we live in a different world. Security is tighter because it has to be. September 11^th changed a lot of things, but nothing more than how airports and more specifically airport security operates. But guess what, not a whole lot has changed since the airports reopened after the attacks. These strict “guidelines” aren’t exactly brand new. However, somehow those with the financial means to purchase a ticket, the intelligence to find their way to the airport, and wherewithal to locate the security line are incapable of following simple directions. It’s literally unbelievable.

Think about the amount of effort you need to go through to not pass through security at your first attempt. In the general area of security there are signs in multiple languages accompanied by pictures that expressly describe everything that needs to come out of the bag. Furthermore, TSA typically stations an employee in the “bag check” area who is borderline yelling these same instructions on a loop. In my estimation, those who set off either of the metal detectors had to consciously decide they wanted to anger all of their fellow passengers. To top things off these rules are not new. Now I know not everyone has the “pleasure” of being a frequent flyer, but everyone has a general idea of the do’s and don’ts. Yet, without fail, each trip to the airport is met with a delay in security because some fool is surprised they’re not allowed to bring their pocket knife, or totally forgot take their laptop out of their bag. It’s insanity.

And as I was sitting in an incredibly long line this past week, I saw firsthand how terrible being an airport employee really could be. I was making my way through security when I heard the familiar line from a TSA employee about making sure all laptops were in a separate bin. But something was different, this guy was trying to spice things up a little bit. Interspersed between the informational announcements were little jokes to try and make the process a little less arduous.

For example, “make sure that all large electronics are taken out of your bag, laptops, gaming consoles, microwaves, death stars, copy machines etc.…” The line was long enough for me to hear this spiel a number of times.  Eventually I progressed to the point where it was my turn to actually partake in following the directions, and again the familiar voice rang out. But to everyone’s dismay the line came to a screeching halt. Someone had forgot to remove their lap top. This information was promptly relayed to the man barking the instructions. So once more he reminded my fellow travelers about the general rules of passing through security, and the process commenced. But within 30 seconds the line stopped again as another lap top was not correctly placed in a bin. The disappointment and defeat on the TSA employee’s face was unmistakable as his head lowered with an audible sigh. After a short pause he started making announcements again, but this time it was different. No upbeat tone, no little jokes, just pure information with a palpable tone of anger. I honestly could see the naivety depart as this man transformed from a greenhorn into the jaded and angry TSA personnel we all know and love.  And I can’t blame him.

These type of situations are everywhere, employees in industries or jobs where they are placed in jobs guaranteed to force them into being terrible, rude and dejected.  The front desk workers at the DMV, flight attendants, the Cafeteria Lunch Ladies from high school, TSA personnel. I usually just assume these people are terrible at their job because they lack the ability to do it successfully.

In retrospect, I’m willing to bet they’re terrible at their job because the people they deal with on a daily basis are impossibly difficult. Maybe those folks at the DMV appear to be jerks because they’ve had to repeat the same answer to the same driver’s license question every day for the past 2 years. It’s like Groundhog Day from hell.

Here is the part of the post where I’m probably obligated to remind everyone that each person should give 100% regardless of what it is they’re doing. And there are a lot of sports clichés I could use to elaborate to that end. But I’ll spare you. Partly because I know that if I was faced with a job as terrible, thankless and mind numbing as repeating TSA instructions I would be popping Prozac like I was Tony Soprano. I don’t blame these individuals for being easily frustrated or always one second away from punching a hole in a wall, their customers are morons.

Now don’t get it twisted, I’m not fixing to pivot into a plea for everyone to be “more understanding” or to not judge a man till you walk two moons in his moccasins or whatever… I might understand why (for the most part) TSA personnel are terrible at their job, and I don’t blame them for hating their life. But this doesn’t make my trip to the airport, or trek to the local DMV any less of a chore.  Instead I’m using this platform as a plea to these institutions to start separating their customers by IQ level. Think about the changes this could mean for all travelers. While the inept try to one up each other with inventive ways to not follow instructions, I can zoom through security. This will allow me quicker access to that $15 hamburger, and my middle seat between two obese men on my delayed departure.

Fandom

Let me begin by apologizing, because I haven’t blogged in a year. I’m sorry, I’ve simultaneously been busy and lazy. But it’s time to turn over a new leaf.

I will attempt to put out at least one post a week for the next 5 weeks. This decision to write is not because I have been sitting on a gold mine worth of material but because I occasionally get the itch to write. Plus I have a 5 week break from grad school so I have some mental capacity to spare.

I typically follow through with my goals, so there is a good chance that these posts will actually happen. However, there is also a chance I might get bored, or busy (watching NBA basketball, or the Sopranos, or Fargo, or Nathan for You, or some cooking show) and just not do it. I’m hoping that by announcing my intentions the world will keep me accountable to my stated goal. But then again I usually don’t care what other people say about me, so no promises.

Almost everyone enjoys sports, but not everyone would or should consider themselves a fan. There is a difference. See, my mom would tell you she likes sports. But what she really means is that she likes going to the local high school football games to chat with her friends and watch the band play. She is objectively, not a fan. “Fans” don’t enjoy sports. They don’t view games as a means to enjoy the ancillary aspects of the event. Enjoy isn’t the right word for a fan because it implies an inherent sense of joy, or happiness. Fans don’t enjoy sports because their happiness is bound directly to the outcome. 

Now, for the sake of the rest of this post, I’m going to clue you in on the tiers of my fandom. Here are my favorite teams, ranked by importance. This means that the team listed on top is obviously more important than the one listed below, and I would rather see the first team succeed over all the other teams listed.

(1)                  San Antonio Spurs

(2)                  Dallas Cowboys

(3)                  Baylor Football

(4)                  Baylor Basketball

(5)                  Atlanta Braves

So long story short, the San Antonio Spurs are my squad, and to be completely truthful the gap between the Spurs and every other team is monumental. This make sense, because basketball is my favorite sport, so naturally my favorite basketball team should and does garner the bulk of my attention. But to be brutally honest I probably care about this team a little too much. Not on like a tattoo predicting a championship, attend the NFL draft, comment on message boards level…those folks are insane.

My fandom is a slow burn, a consistent amount of constant attention. Like watched every Spurs game for a calendar year,  reads Spurs blogs daily, spend time on the ESPN trade machine creating fake trades to improve the team, constantly tweeting my thoughts on the team even though no one cares, fandom.

But this blog post isn’t my ode to that incredible basketball team.

It isn’t about my first memories of the Spurs at the Hemisphere Arena involving Terry Cummings,Willie Anderson and Vinny Del Negro (not exactly Hall of Famers).

Or about being obsessed with stuffed crust Pizza because the commercial featured my favorite player.

Or being devastated after that same player won MVP and then got torched in the playoffs.

Nor is it about the All-Star game at the terrible Alamodome.

Or about how the trajectory of the entire franchise changed upon winning the draft lottery and the right to pick a center from Wake Forest.

It’s not about the 15 straight years (and counting) of 50 plus winning seasons, the 5 championships or some of the most beautiful basketball ever seen in the NBA

It’s an examination about why I care so much about a bunch of tall sweaty men I’ve never met and their ability to throw an orange sphere through a metal circle.

As with most “fans” I didn’t choose the Spurs, the Spurs chose me. This is how most fandom begins. I spent my formative “fan years” living in San Antonio which has exactly one professional sports team (if you don’t count the indoor minor league hockey team…. Go Iguanas). 95% percent of my extended family lives in San Antonio and I’m down there for every conceivable holiday or important occasion. 99 % of my family (save my older brother, he likes the Mavs, more on him in a sec), are Spurs’ fans, my 85 year old grandma loves them, my cousins are as obsessed as I am. My Dad (a huge fan) refuses to watch any game that matters because he thinks he’s bad luck. There was no choice, bleeding silver and black was unavoidable.

Let me take a moment to state something you’re probably doubting, I fully realize that the time, energy, and money I spend on the Spurs has zero impact on the team. I’m also aware there are far more important pursuits. I’m a fan, not an idiot. Yes I’m aware that if I spent that time, energy, and money on sheltering abused animals, or clothing the homeless we’d all be better off. But take a second and think about your favorite hobby, think you could make a difference in the world if you put some of that time/energy/money to some charitable pursuit? Please, spare me that rhetoric.

I’m also aware that if I stopped being a fan tomorrow, the team would still exist, there material successes wouldn’t be effected and the players wouldn’t even notice. I obviously don’t cheer for this team because I believe the team needs me to, or because they added my favorite player. I don’t support the Spurs because I feel like I can make a difference.

When you break it down to the most basic level I cheer for laundry, I’m logical enough to realize this. In the case of the Spurs I cheer for a bunch of dudes because they are wearing shorts with a matching black and silver tank top that is adorned with a cowboy accessory.

Now, granted there are exceptions but it generally comes down to the name on the front, not on the back. We’re tied to organizations not individuals. That’s why fans are crazy. Someone who they have no relationship with puts on the right colored gear and we cheer for them like family. It’s ridiculous. Why do you think Cowboy fans can cheer for Greg Hardy? Most would Cowboys fans would objectively tell you he’s a terrible person, but he puts on a blue star and these same people cheer him like he’s Christ entering Jerusalem on Palm Sunday.

The fact is that when you’re a “fan” you can’t quit your team, it’s an addiction.  Now some people cherry pick their favorite teams (I did this with baseball). I generally don’t have an issue with this as long as you are consistent. Quick shout out to my PaPa who conveniently chooses the most successful teams (recently Cavs, Alabama etc...) and supports them.  My older brother is a better version one of these “choosers.” He resisted any favorite team of the family and forged his own path, a borderline unforgiveable offense. He’s a Packer, Mavs, UT, Cubs fan. At a young age he selected his favorite teams, and has stuck with them through thick and thin. His connection to these teams although strong, will never get to my level (which might be a positive thing) It can’t. 

Choice implies the ability to change, to decide to choose again. Being born into fandom is like being born into a family, while choosing a team is the equivalent of marrying into a family. Both are supposed to be forever, but only one of them comes with an (regretful, painful, terrible idea) escape clause. Even if my parents are awful I can’t change it. And that’s the rub, because often being a fan does suck.

The “highs” of being a sports fan are tough to top.  Some of my fondest memories revolve around the sports championships of my favorite teams (did I mention the Spurs have 5?).

My dad getting me out of bed to finish watching the Cowboys win the Super Bowl with him in 1993.

Sitting by myself in the back room at my uncle’s lake house in 1999 to see Avery Johnson nail that game winning jumper.

Watching the Spurs clinch the 2014 finals (after coming so close in 2013) with my brother on Father’s day and calling my Dad to celebrate.

But ask me how I felt the next day, and I go blank. I mean I’m sure I was happy, that I was excited and proud, but those feelings were fleeting at best.  I remember some details, but they fade in time. The lows of being a fan are a different story, the tough losses are eternal.

Ask me about Derek Fisher’s .4 second shot and I can tell you everything, about the plays before where I was, and what my Dad said right before he shot it ( I believe his “I’m not watching the games stance started after this game)

Ask me about Ginobili’s and 1 foul on Dirk in game 7 of the 2006 Western Finals and I can tell you intricate details about the entire series, who I was with, what seat I was in, and how all my Mavs fan friends rubbed it in for weeks.

The worst was Ray Allen’s corner 3 in game 6 of the 2013 finals.  I can describe how my uncle predicted we’d lose before Kawhi even missed the free throw, about the general malaise in San Antonio after the game, about how I called my Dad and told him we were about to win then being beyond devastated when we lost.

These losses stick with you, they eat at you. They never go away. These losses incited anger and frustration. I’ve destroyed property, loss sleep and said things I’d be embarrassed to tell my mom about. Are the wins worth all this trouble? The quick answer is yes, because hope springs eternal.

Granted the Spurs are tough to complain about, they’ve been the class of the league for almost 2 decades and routinely top ESPN’s “franchise rankings” so as a fan I’ve been #blessed.

But what about my second favorite team, the Cowboys. They won 3 Super Bowls before I reached puberty but I’ve watched them toil in mediocrity and stupidity since. They’re currently led by an incompetent GM and meddlesome owner (they happen to be the same person) yet still, my fandom continues. I still watch games, still get fooled into believing they have a chance to win every game. Nothing is too egregious to keep me from supporting them. Blow the draft on a yearly basis? I’m still in. Sign over the hill free agents to bloated contracts? I’ll still buy the merchandise. Routinely blow late leads? I’ll still pour over the schedule to see if the playoffs are even a remote possibility. You’d think I’d be so beaten down that I’d consider taking my fandom elsewhere. But that’s impossible.

So why do we do it? Why are any of us fans?

I know these are going to sound ridiculous but stick with me here…

Part of it is a need for belonging, to be connected to something that is bigger than ourselves. Everyone has a desire to be a part of something to support or believe in something that is larger than themselves, to belong to a group. Anytime I meet a Spurs fan in DFW we have an instant connection, something we can talk about. We take pride in being in exile together, relish the opportunity to band together and discuss how superior the Spurs are then the Mavs. What about when you discover that someone else enjoys your favorite hobby, do you not enjoy discussing it with them? I’ve met countless people because I was wearing a Baylor shirt. This isn’t because they think green and gold is aesthetically pleasing, it’s because they want to talk about how they think Baylor is going to do this Saturday.  Think about the pronouns fans use to talk about their teams, not them or they, but us and we. True fans feel that they are a part of what’s going on.

Part of it is we need a distraction from the things of this life. Story after story came out about how the Saints helped New Orleans citizens recover from Katrina. Now I think some of that was overblown (no pun intended) but there is no doubt that in the face of tragedy a 3 hour release has intrinsic benefit.  But it doesn’t have to be something serious, it can be as simple as having an event to look forward to this Saturday afternoon. Something to make plans around that can help the monotony of (cubicle) life pass by. I’ll spend weeks looking forward to a marquee game for the Spurs. I’ll block it off on my schedule, and make sure nothing gets in the way.

But most importantly we’re fans because the highs (as fleeting as the might be) and the prospect they might come again entice us to hold on. We want the opportunity to take pride in being able to say “I never gave up on this team” or to proudly boast “I always believed”. This is reason enough to continue. We’re addicted. I’ll still tune into Cowboys games because I’m a sucker and always will be. Even when the Spurs eventually (God I hope this doesn’t happen) slide back into mediocrity, will still have my support.

Or we might all just be insane. Either way, I’m in. Now if you will excuse me I’m late for a date with Wednesday night’s Spurs vs Milwaukee Bucks game that is saved on my DVR.

The Tipping Point

Let’s begin by stating the obvious, I’m not Malcolm Gladwell, he happens to be an infinitely greater writer and Canadian then I could ever strive to be.

In all seriousness if you haven’t read any of his work, stop reading this and order one of his books, they’re all phenomenal. One of Gladwell’s bestsellers is entitled The Tipping Point in which he claims that there is a “magic moment when an idea, trend, or social behavior crosses a threshold, tips, and spreads like wildfire”. For example in his introduction he recounts an anecdote where a type of shoe (hush puppies to be more specific) was fading into obscurity when a subset of individuals in Manhattan started purchasing the shoes and within months their popularity exploded.


My blog post is diametrically opposite in subject manner and quality. Society is full of examples of these “points” where trends explode, but I’m positive these same “points” exist in the death of trends. Examples were society becomes so saturated with a certain idea that the balloon literally bursts and the trend is sentenced to a quick death. For all the good he’s done, God in all of his infinite wisdom did not place me in charge of dolling out the death sentences for the fashions and movements that have overstayed their welcome. But luckily for you Yahweh is not in charge of this blogosphere, I am. And as the supreme ruler of this space I give to you a short list of ideas, trends and movements that I am doing my best to move toward and over a true tipping point into an everlasting abyss.

Let’s break these down into some broad categories

Clothes:

Neon everything

I get it, fashion is cyclical. What is “in style” will eventually fade into obscurity only to return to prominence decades later. Neon is no exception to this rule. I believe that within reason someone from the summer of 1992 could be brought to the future and fashion wise, would fit right in. 

Personally I was slow to adopt this new trend and am quickly becoming eager for its demise. There are times where I feel like a social pariah because I wore only grey blue or black to the gym. Seriously, it’s completely out of control. In reality, a little neon is fine. Wanna wear a neon tank top? Great. Feel like rocking some neon yoga pants? More power to you. But as we all learned in high school, adults ruin everything. Kinda like Kevin Hart

Just a little advice if you’re all in on the neon trend (especially if your college years are behind you). 1. Pace yourself 2. Don’t simultaneously wear different shades of the same neon color. 3. Not everything you own has to be neon 4. You probably look a little less than ½ as cool as you think you do.

Graphic shirts with sayings

This is a pretty specific trend, and is generally limited to Adidas, Under Armour and Nike. Quick history lesson, the pioneer for this trend (years ago) was And 1. With beauties like this...

Quick update, if you are in the mood for some current And 1 merchandise make your way to your local Wal-Mart’s sales rack. However the geniuses in Eugene decided to raise this trend from the dead, but now instead of good natured (albeit ridiculous) smack talk these shirt reek of sexual innuendo and tired clichés. I’ve found that If you need a shirt to tell people how awesome you are at athletics, you probably suck.

My personal favorite is this recent offering from Nike:

Whenever I see a teenager at my gym wearing this shirt I calmly walk up to him and begin to apologize for my inability to to not perspire over his swag. The teenager usually looks completely confused as I offer to explanation and continue walking….yeah I know, my life sounds awesome.

Media:

Post-Apocalyptic Media

In general the movie industry is a joke. Seriously, look at this summer’s line up of films. Hardly appetizing. But this lack of Hollywood quality is a well-documented trend. Accordingly the argument that Hollywood is seemingly out of ideas isn’t exactly novel. There is no greater example of this awful trend then Hollywood’s over reliance on post-apocalyptic films or television series. What is our fascination with this idea? I have zero interest in the post-apocalyptic universe.


Why on earth (pun intended) would I care what life is going to be like some natural disaster destroyed half the planet?

Are we interested in paying money to see what life could be like if we apes started running the show?

Seriously, how can we be tricked into being entertained by the thought of teenage girls leading revolts against overbearing governments?

I was under the impression that the Left Behind series had just about handled the rapture angle, but low and behold HBO has decided to make a extremely depressing series about it. 

And to top it off Nicholas Cage has decided that Kirk Cameron just wasn't convincing enough the first time around.... 

Zombies / Werewolves / Vampires

Can we all agree this has run its course? Now, I’m not against fantasy as a media genre. There resides a special place in my heart for Tyrion Lannister, Legolas, and Mad Eye Moody.

And the previously mentioned three fantasy series each contain elements of human like beasts, resurrected beings and blood thirsty folks with sharp teeth. But they aren’t the focus of the show. They don’t put these people in realistic settings. Who wants to go to high school with vampires? Who wants to run around in rural Georgia with zombies? Who wants to cheat on a vampire with a werewolf? Media is saturated with this idea.

Use some logic, if werewolves start popping out of the forest and shredding folks we will figure out a beneficial way to eradicate their habitat just like the Dodo. If the most famous ethnic group from Transylvania stages a mass migration to the US, some medical device company will create an insanely expensive metal collar (preferably neon colored) for all of us to wear. And finally, if the dead starting resurrecting from the grave we will do what Americans do best…. Discriminate.

Political correctness

I’m so tired of this trend. There is a certain amount of this that needs to happen. Obviously we can’t have everyone just saying anything they want at any time. Although it would create incredible opportunities for humor, society yearns for some semblance of order and a complete lack of PC result in chaos. Take for example this recent “Ice Bucket Challenge” for ALS. This is a silly stunt people do to raise awareness and money about a terrible disease, but of course this can’t be left alone. Instead of supporting this for what it is, people are upset that those participating in the challenge are wasting water while kids in Africa die of thirst. Being in public relations these days must be a nightmare. They probably spend half their day thinking of every possible way that their product or client could be placed in a negative light and trying to combat it. Trying to make everything perfect sounds exhausting, enough is enough. 

Combo:

Super hero media and clothes

This is a special category combining both media and clothes. I can’t be the only person that finds the majority of super heroes boring, right? In my mind there are two types of super heroes: 

1st are those that possess some “super human” physical ability, naturally inherited or otherwise given to them by any type of scientific experiment. Example: Flash’s ability to run fast. 2nd is when some person with normal physical ability takes a personal tragedy and with the help of his rather large inheritance starts regulating Gotham. 

By now the hierarchy should be clear. Batman is a super hero everyone else is garbage. I’m sorry; I don’t feel bad for Superman because he’s an outcast due to his super human strength. The dude basically won the genetic lottery and I’m supposed to pity him because some elementary kids are teasing him for being strong? Give me a break, if Superman came to earth today here’s what would happen. He’s arrives, people find out he’s incredibly strong, fast, agile etc… and he would immediately receive athletic scholarship offers from every college in the country. He would grace the cover of Sports Illustrated

and eventually sign an athletic deal with Under Armour (they already got the shirts made).

Finally he would probably get any girl he wanted, be insanely rich and save lives as a hobby….sounds awful. You know who the real super heroes are? Hold on and let me be politically correct real quick… The real heroes are Fireman, police, soldiers, teachers, doctors, nurses and everyone else who might in some way, shape, or form assist another human, or animal through their employment or volunteer efforts.

Unfortunately, when it comes to DC and Marvel, Hollywood and our appetite for their offerings cannot be satiated. We are constantly bombarded with the newest super hero show or movie. Some are surprisingly good (Guardians of the Galaxy most recently) but most are garbage (everything besides the Avengers). Unfortunately this phenomenon seemingly has no end. IMDB is filled with message boards about the most obscure DC comic possibly slated for a movie release in 2020…sigh….

I too love feeling nostalgia from childhood, but that doesn’t mean I want to wear socks with bunch of “S’s” on them or a T-shirt with the bat signal printed across the chest. Jerry Seinfeld and Dane Cook most eloquently touched on this phenomenon, but let me add my piece.

The following are rules for wearing Super Hero clothing. 

1. Is it Halloween? If the answer is yes then wear all the super hero stuff you want. If the answer is no, then calmly proceed to #2. 

2. Are you in elementary school? If yes, then you’re good to go. If the answer is no, then hopefully you kept the receipt for your inane purchase and should return it promptly.  

Dichotomy

Currently, I own a white 1997 F150 pickup. It’s basic in every sense of the word. It’s a 5 speed that boasts powerless locks, powerless windows and one un-inclinable bench seat.  The paint is fading in numerous places, the tint on the back window is failing and the stereo system could best be described as archaic. I absolutely love this truck.

Up till now the truck has been fantastic, no issues to speak of. Trucks (especially old ones) are great. They don’t need to be cleaned regularly, look good somewhat messy, and have a built in open faced garage some call “the bed”. However, recently this glorious vehicle’s impeccable veneer has begun to wane. The past few months have required numerous trips to my local mechanic (more on him in a sec). A failing clutch and an inability to start consistently, the main culprits. This is frustrating for two reasons. The first is the sinking suspicion that at some point in the not too distant future I’m going to have to purchase a new vehicle.  Secondly, and more problematically, it reveals an enormous flaw in my emerging sense of manhood. I know nothing and I mean nothing about motor vehicles and how they work.

Although I’m happy to shoulder some of this blame, in my defense, it’s not my fault. Growing up my Dad and my Step-Dad fulfilled two very important “male” stereotypes: sports knowledge and mechanical knowledge respectively. My Dad has some ability to discuss how to fix certain things, but is much more comfortable discussing the benefits of a Cover 2 over Man when attempting to stop a mobile quarterback. 

My Step-Dad is much the opposite, he knows the ins and outs of most sports but is better versed in the history of various engines than that of storied sports franchises.  Growing up in this dichotomy was beneficial, I learned about both, but naturally I gravitated towards sports. It should come as no surprise that I found participating in or watching sports on TV infinitely more exciting than trying to change the brakes on the family vehicle.

Unfortunately I have a sinking suspicion that perhaps I chose poorly. I’m well versed in all manners of the sports lexicon but am clueless about how vehicles actually work. My treasure chest of trivial sports knowledge is helpful on Sunday afternoons but useless 95% of the time. To complicate matters my opportunity to form a foundation of car maintenance competency has long since sailed away. This leaves me at the whim of asking others for help. I currently have two options: My family’s personal “pep boy” (AKA my Step Dad) or my local mechanic.

In my step dad’s defense he did his best to teach me and my brethren the basics of vehicle maintenance, sadly it didn’t take. Honestly, the guy deserves a medal. My brothers and I are full-grown and still call him at the earliest sign of car distress. He’s dropped his evening plans twice this past week to lend me (a 27 year old) a helping hand. It’s no secret he longs for me to move far enough away to make him completely unavailable for emergency car help. Part of the problem is the vast knowledge gap that exists between us. He’s operating on completely different plane. 

 Even his name speaks to his abnormal ability. Ironically his Christian name is Todd, but he’s more commonly known as “Tim” a nickname I gave him when he joined our family. At the time “Home Improvement” was a popular show, which prominently featured comical opportunities to fix stuff. 

Now fans of this show will point out that in the show “Tim” (Tim Allen) didn’t actually fix the issues, but instead, consistently created them. I admit, in reality, a more appropriate nickname would have been “Al”.  But that guy was a square, and I wasn’t going to give my new Step Dad a bush league moniker. His acumen isn’t just reserved for our family; this dude receives phone calls from my friends for help and even his peers consistently call for advice. 

When I do end up helping him fix my car we each have well defined roles that we execute flawlessly. He diagnosis the issue comes up with solution and proceeds to make it happen. I specialize in well-timed and topical sarcastic remarks and flawless flashlight operation.

Whenever I do have a problem the majority of our phone related phone calls operate along the following script, loosely based on the two most recent SOS calls.

Me: Hey, I’m having car trouble…..

Him: What’s the problem?

Me: My truck won’t start.

Him: Does it turn over?

Me: I don’t know what that means….

Him: (Sigh) does it almost start? Or does it just kind of do a “click, click, click” noise?

Me: Oh it does the almost starting thing. Like it gets 95% of the way but doesn’t make it.

Him: Ok, pop the hood and find your spark plugs.

Me: Umm, what do they look like??

Him: (Sigh) Todd, you need to learn these kinds of things…. (Another sigh, dripping with definite signs of frustration) Where are you??

Me: My apartment

Him: I’m on my way. See you in 15

Me: Sorry about that, thanks…

At this point he’s unintentionally made me feel completely emasculated and I start contemplating my manhood in general. Unfortunately, besides having a full time job and living 6 miles from my parents’ house, there’s not a whole lot pointing towards my ability to be self-sufficient. Sometimes I feel like I need to remind him of my worth by dropping a bloody bird carcass on his doorstep like a young Labrador.

If he can’t fix my car I take my car to my mechanic. He’s an uncouth man named Mike, who lives nearby, and runs an “auto shop” out of a detached garage at the back of his property. Now I can call him my mechanic because, well he is. Between my family and I we have taken 4 cars to his “shop”, and we don’t take them anywhere else. We trust him implicitly because he’s earned it. I’ll spare you the paragraph on the importance of finding a mechanic you can trust. Seinfeld and Putty did that well enough.

Back to Mike, I mentioned uncouth, and I don’t use that word lightly. He’s literally the most vulgar man I’ve ever been around. And since between my family and I, we’ve been to his shop about 15 times I’ve had plenty of interaction with him.

Mike has a short, slender build that even the most generous would hesitate to describe as athletic. His attire is consistent as his work. Unkept pepper colored hair with a 2-day-old beard and thin wire frame glasses. His pants and shirt (with or without sleeves) typically revolve around one pattern: camo.  He lives at the end of a one street neighborhood with a house and garage that sit on a one-acre lot. His house is plain and non descript, his garage / auto shop is obviously the main attraction of the property. It’s a metal rectangle the size of a two-car garage.  The left half of the inside looks like your typical mechanical shop. Tools big and small have their specific place lining the perimeter, and a large jack like apparatus is available to life vehicles off their wheels. The right half, provides more room for tools and cars, but really functions as a man cave. This includes a full size couch, projection screen with satellite television and a fridge full of beer. The decorations are modest and extremely country, fishing poles and various taxidermy animals.

To acquire Mike the Mechanic’s services you must set an appointment. It’s simple, you call Mike and ask if he is available to work on your vehicle. Typically his answer is yes, on more than one occasion his answer has been no. This is because Mike is in the weeds, not in the “really busy” sense of the word, but literally because he’s probably standing in weeds. Mike likes to go fishing, and to hunt, if he has to miss business, well that a sacrifice he’s willing to make.

The fist time I met Mike I approached him intent on describing the issue with my truck. Instead he started the conversation by casually mentioning to me that he was currently considering murdering his wife. Apparently she made him watch  “"Three's Company"” before bed, even though she knows he hates it. No worries though, I have seen his wife multiple times since that first encounter so I can happily report that his death threat was not fulfilled.

On my most recent call to Mike I was stranded at my local Kroger. I called Mike and asked him if he could give me a tip to help me get my truck started. I was expecting some solid mechanic advice. Instead, he told me to get a wrench and bang on the bottom of my gas tank really hard. So I climbed out of the cab, slid under by truck and proceeded to play “whack a mole” with what I believe is the bottom of my gas tank. Of course the truck didn’t start, but I did successfully get every person in the Kroger parking lot to stare at me. To top things off I was able to temporarily fix the issue when I received assistance from a middle aged lady. What's awesome about Mike is that he too has the ability to make me feel completely inadequate.

No worries though. I called Tim and when he arrived, he diagnosed the root of issue within 30 seconds, crisis averted. I had absolutely no oil. My response: A sly grin, shoulder shrug and a pretty meek….”whoops?”

One of these days I’m hoping that my years of acquiring sports knowledge will pay off. I like to imagine that I’ll happen upon a damsel in “sports distress” that is in desperate need of my expertise. Let’s get real though, that’s not going to happen. No worries I have a “plan B” too. Instead of being the damsel in “car distress” I'll be in the position to assist. I'll proceed to ask her if she needs help and promptly give Tim a call….