There is nothing like showing your husband how much you love him by standing there listening to him explain all of the engine parts, and acting like you are interested and understand what the heck he is talking about. Oh look a shiny penny! Thump!

Can I be completely honest with you? I know Jack Squat (he's a good man, even if he does have an IQ of 4) about cars and what makes them run (can I have an AMEN?!). I climb in the car, put the key in the ignition, and start her right up! Vroooom! I know how to check the oil and other fluids, make sure the tire pressure is correct and yes people, I put gas in my own car (thank you very much please). Aside from the gas, my husband performs all of the other maintenance on my car and I'm quite happy to let him do so.

I know my limits people.

Currently, our neighbor Charlie and my husband are standing around, scratching themselves, pounding on their chests, swilling beer, belching and generally doing manly car type things while looking at the engine. I was tempted to offer them some chew.

Charlie: This thing is really starting to piss me off.

Husband: You and me brother! For the record, Charlie is not a blood relative, but they may as well be, all scratching aside.

To summarize (finally, the crowd roars!), the "if you know what you are doing it will only take 45 minutes" turned into 3 1/2 hours of pissing, moaning, and finally elation over a hard earned success. When we were getting ready for bed later that night, he casually mentioned, "I have to replace the thermostat."

Me: Blank look.

Him: I have to put in a new thingamabob so the collection of spare parts flying in loose formation don't go into melt down mode.

Ah, I see. Now it's perfectly clear.