I have a garage. When I go out there, my hands get dirty, I bang stuff around, and I frequently spit (on the grass, not on the floor). My walk becomes more ape-like and I fart a lot more (I dunno what that's about). There's always something to tinker with and plenty of hammers and screwdrivers to assist with the job. That's about all I have as far as tools, but you'd be surprised how much can be accomplished with just those two things. It's really great to go out there and be all manly and whatnot.
This weekend I have to tune up my snow thrower and get it ready for winter. It's a beat-up old 1974 Bobcat and the loudest, meanest snow thrower on the block. There's nothing like firing it up early in the morning and shattering the snowy silence with a mechanical roar and a puff of smoke. Every time I use it, I find myself scratching my armpits and my speech reduced to grunts.
Yeah, the garage is OK.
