You know, in my new drive to workout, I’ve begun to form what might be an odd sort of dream. During my entire life, I’ve never had a house with an empty garage. My parents use the garage as a giant storage area such that it is almost comical and the thing of legend among my friends and family. We currently think the following might be hidden within it: dead horse, 1970 dune buggy, airline blackbox, Tenzing Norgay and Jimmy Hoffa. I would post a picture, but a photo won’t do it justice.
But with my thrice weekly trips to the gym I’ve begun to dream of having a gym in my garage. Not my garage in the current house, but in the future sometime. Just a true man’s space. Weight bench, pull up bar, punching bag, jump rope, old couch, big floor fan, stereo, and a fridge with cold drinks.
It just is one of those images which has begun to stick with me. The idea of me cranking the music, turning off the phone, going out into the hot garage with just me and my dog, and working out like every good Rocky montage.
Whenever I think of that garage I envision you and adam putting on snorkels and masks and diving in. i see you literally swimming through years of family history in the form of tupperware, bike parts, books, and clothes.