labor fruit

I have a car.
It’s a 1962 Ford Fairlane 500 and I bought it in 2010.
For a while, it was my only car.
I love that car. But that’s an easy thing for me to say right now… it wasn’t so easy to say that a couple years ago.

With some much needed willpower and some encouragement; and well, some straight up miraculous help from a friend, I rekindled my love for this car in the fall of 2022 and since then I’ve poured a lot of energy and burnt a lot of calories improving it. It’s been incredibly cathartic… and it runs and drives better than it ever has in my 13 years with it.

I’ve been driving it more this year than I have in a long time… but I even needed encouragement to do that.

I’ve really enjoyed the work. Over the past 6 years (2 of which I was angry and did nothing), I’ve rewired the entire car, replaced the alternator, put new wheels & tires on it, designed (and redesigned and redesigned) a new mount for the alternator, put an electronic ignition in it, rebuilt the transmission, put new u-joints in it, did some brake work, painted the underside of the floor, replaced the window rubber, put in some aftermarket gauges (and almost burned the car down doing so), put in a new clutch (again), pulled out the interior door panels and cleaned out the insides of the doors, made custom exhaust, and Lu & I are wrapping our heads around the interior.

So much work had been done without any serious driving between jobs that when I finally got it on the road, it ran and drove so good that it was almost unrecognizable.

What I didn’t do was stop & smell the roses.

At this point I’m spending some time behind the wheel and enjoying the fruits of my labor and it’s been reminding me that it’s okay to do that in other aspects of life, too.

Maybe you need that reminder, too…?
I sure did.