Yesterday ended up being a tough row to hoe. After a Saturday spent replacing the radiator, fan switch, and fan relay in my ’84 Corvette, the thing overheated on me on my way to the office Monday morning. I managed to roll it into an Auto Zone that was just opening for business. Even new cars break down, and driving a classic car around, especially an unrestored original, is just begging for stuff to happen. Even so, I felt like a bum when I called Henry to tell him I was gonna be late. Then I felt like a bum as I tried to figure out what was wrong with my car in the Auto Zone parking lot. And then I felt like a bum as my brother and I fixed the car in that same parking lot. In other words, even though I was probably in one of the best places I could be to make impromptu repairs, and it’s not like I’m the only person who fixes his car in the parts store parking lot, I sort of felt like a bum. On the other hand, I had the resources to get my ride going, and I did. Some people don’t have these resources, and I don’t hold it against them when they ask me for change. Panhandlers don’t really bother me, and I share if I have the change to spare. My feeling is, there but for the grace of God go I, especially these days. But yesterday I found a catch: Don’t try to bum change off of me when I’m working on my car in the Auto Zone parking lot! What the hell is that about? I’m broken down in Timbuktu, up to my elbows in Corvette cooling fan, and you just have to ask me for change? C’mon! There's a time and a place for everything, pal, and that was neither. End rant.