I'm going to suggest that the average street rodder has both a wife and a garage. I will emphatically note that the average street rodder finds himself sharing—ah, his garage not his wife!

For starters, let me be perfectly clear and state for the record that I have an incredible wife and a lover of my car projects. (She doesn't understand why most don't run and probably never will but a fan nonetheless.) Well, that's as long as she can get "her stuff" into the garage and my projects aren't responsible for any interference. Now, correct me if I'm incorrect but isn't the garage the domain of us manly men who hammer on steel, ignite torches, and grind our way into shaping once-vintage tin into one of today's rarest of cars—a hot rod that's actually driven? At least that's what I thought.

It was some time ago that she and I went through the joy of a complete house renovation. (If you haven't endured the excitement of living through one of these little slices of heaven believe me when I say, “You can live without the rectal pain it causes.” And this doesn't even begin to address the emotional roller coaster you are about to embark upon.) The two of us agreed up front that we should each have one aspect of the build that satisfied our own “personal” desire. For my wife that included having a kitchen with all of that girly stuff that turns a normal kitchen into hallowed ground. (I should give full disclosure and state my wife is a cook of sensational abilities, so making sure that she had a kitchen to match her talents would, in the end, yield tummy yum yums that would benefit me. This was one of life's no-brainers.)

OK, I figure my wife will be so preoccupied that she would both ignore and yield to me the garage. Yes, a garage of proportions that would make any hot rodder kneel before the altar that is his roll-away. Well it worked. Both of us were happy. It has been 10 years since the completion and the entire project worked out well. But there's a glitch.

Apparently, my garage is so cool with all of its "extra" storage space, handy lighting, and ready accessibility that my wife has decided that I don't need all of the space and she can use a portion of it. To listen to her you can hardly notice the space taken over by Christmas ornaments we haven't used since the Reagan administration, a wedding dress from generations past that I have no idea why she is keeping, and my favorite, all of her mother's keepsakes, which I cannot even began to explain what they are and why we have them. But apparently I'm insensitive and don't understand the emotional connections associated with family keepsakes.

I have the only six-car garage that barely fits one Ford pickup and my roadster. The rest of the space is filled with "stuff". I could enumerate but I feel I have already wandered into a conversation that I am not going to win. Even my workbench is covered with stuff, but I have no shelf space resulting from other stuff that we must keep. I'm not sure why we are keeping all of it, as we can't sell it, 'cause they are family heirlooms, but nobody in our family wants any of it! I was the one blessed with the foresight to build the shelving, however I'm not the one with final say on what's housed for eternal time.

What I want to know is, "Are there any other rodders who have found themselves in the same predicament, and what have you done to get your man cave back?" My guess is most, if not all, have surrendered to a truce that allows you to keep "some" of the space while the remainder is up for grabs. I guess it is all part of being a team—and liking to eat regularly.

Brian Brennan
Editorial Director/Editor