The First Look

It was night when I got to my mom's house that Friday. My plane to San Diego was just a puddle jump from Phoenix- they didn't even get the drink cart to my row before we started descending- but it was still too late to do much work. Once I saw the car, though, and the appalling state it was in, I had to do at least a little before the next morning. It was as if I were morally bound to clean up this, dare I say, unholy mockery...

"Do ye suppose that God will look upon you as guiltless while ye sit still and behold these things? Behold I say unto you, Nay. Now I would that ye should remember that God has said that the inward vessel shall be cleansed first, and then shall the outer vessel be cleansed also."
-Alma 60:23

So I started in a little that night- mostly just making a mental appraisal of the work to be done the next day. Also, by the light of a flashlight, since there are few streetlights in Vista, (albeit for an acceptable reason) I razor-bladed most of the stickers out of the windows, dredged what trash I could reach out from under the seats and into the lower parts where your feet go, threw away a few cups and papers, and checked under the hood for anything major. The engine was caked with years worth of grime and oil deposits, but the drive belts and the more vital hoses were in surprisingly solid shape.

The next morning, work started in earnest, and it was a long day of hard labor. I had everything I was going to do planned out by the hour, and it of course all came together in precise harmony like a perfectly tuned work of automotive craftsmanship. Riiiiiiight...