Blue Collar

It's easy to miss that everyone has their own story. The most boring, most banal people in our lives and the lives of our friends and families have their own path that led them directly to where they are right now. A person you see in a mall or on the sidewalk or in a restaurant, even though they might fit a discernable pattern or stereotype, have their own histories. 
When we were down in Mexico, Cousin Mike invented someone: the disgruntled husband. A personification of the trodden-down husband; a man who thinks marriage is a life wasted; who rocked out in his youth, married his high-school sweetheart, and has been regretting everything that came after. A disgruntled soul who spends his time warning young men, young men in whom he sees himself, that "whatever you do, don't get hitched. Ol' ball and chain is right. I've been tied down for almost 30 years. What I wouldn't give to be your age again."
Briefly, as I was in a moving vehicle cruising through a neighbourhood of small houses with small yards, I saw that man. All I caught was a snapshot, but it was enough for me to realise who it was I was looking at.
What I saw was a white, late 40's man in a faded muscle shirt and sweatpants, working on his car. On the surface, not really much to remark upon. What struck me was the state of the car. Not the family car, but one he had bought 20 years ago, just for himself, maybe in an attempt to hold on to his youth. Up on blocks, not because it was an old, abandoned beater, but because he was rotating the tires. Hood up, not because something had gone wrong, but to make sure nothing would go wrong. Tools scattered about, not disorganised, but close to hand. Man, car, and driveway were all dirty. Not the dirt of laziness or of being slovenly, but of hard work and elbow grease.
I had the feeling that, despite occasional frustrations, a couple bloodied knuckles and aching muscles, this guy would sleep the sleep of a man who spent the day working hard at something with which he was completely at peace.
Maybe his wife doesn't make his eyes pop like she did when they were 18. Maybe he doesn't like his job or his kids, or his best friend is his dog. But that doesn't mean he couldn't still set aside a day to do something he loved, something that reminded him of his youth.
And maybe, hopefully, this guy walked into work on Monday morning, and once he got past his buds bullshitting about how lousy it was to be back at work on Monday morning, he got to see the look of envy and respect on their faces when they asked him, "So, what did you get up to this weekend?" and he said nonchalantly, "Not a lot..."
"Worked on the Car."