Tenacity

Recently, my husband decided he wanted to "fix-up" my old '94 Toyota pickup. First, he buffed and polished the exterior. Next, he power-washed the engine and removed all the fir needles and moss that had become lodged in the windows, vents, doors, etc. Things were looking good...though he kept talking about turning the truck into his personal "boy toy."

One day, I came home to find he had pulled out the bench seat, the carpeting and the dashboard. The only way to drive the truck was by sitting on a plastic stool (needless to say, it didn't get driven except to jockey around cars in the driveway). He then started working with wood and building boxes for, oh my God, speakers and amplifiers for a new stereo system. I should tell you that he has never actually installed a car stereo before and both of us were unsure of how successful he would be.

He worked on this stereo set-up for days - full weekends were spent in the garage building (and rebuilding) boxes. He also spent many evenings after work with the project. After getting the boxes just right, he began to do the wiring, which he described as "60 wires that I don't know how to connect yet." When I looked at the gaping dashboard and saw the chaos, I knew that I would've quit right then. This is the dashboard:

Horrifying.

Anyhow, I believe in him. I've seen him tear apart motorcycles and rebuild them to running condition, with only a manual by his side. This afternoon, I walked down to taunt, I mean, ask him how it was going when I heard music coming from the interior of the truck. Glory be! He hooked the thing up and, with a little tweaking of the amplifier, he was able to get full-scale, downtown LA, throbbing bass.

We both did a little jig in honor of his genius (though my jig looked better). Here he is, basking in the glory of his accomplishment.

All hail, the tenacious one!