Wearing three shirts, one jumper, one fleecy coat and a waterproof over the top I lie on the wet ground swearing at the seized trailing arm bolt. My hands are numb and the coldness of the ratchet pressed against my palm defines me. I have slipped once and blood is flowing softly from my knuckles, probably I have tetanus.
Car maintenance in winter without a garage is an alpha sort of pursuit. I scoff at people lifting weights in a warm gym, they don’t know the meaning of pain. For some of you lucky enough to have somewhere warm and dry to house your cars and bikes I truly envy you. For the others who can afford to pay someone to do these jobs I also envy you. I also envy people with car lifts, I assume I am going to hell.
Last year I built a garage. 32 years on this earth and for the first time I can work on vehicles in the warm and dry. My life has been revolutionised, I can leave things in pieces and come back to them the next day without parts going missing off my drive. My cars no longer fill up with water and grow mushrooms on their carpets. My bikes are tucked away on trickle chargers and I have a workbench.
I love the possibilities it has opened up. You might look and see a glorified shed, I see the culmination of years of work and saving, trying to buy a property with enough land and having enough money to build one.
To butcher a movie line, this is my garage, there are many like it but this one is mine.
The Driven Wheel 