Tom gets this horrified look on his face, like someone just told him pizza was going extinct. He drops the polishing rag dramatically, turns toward his wife, and says, “Wait, wait, wait… you mean all my cars? As in… my babies, my chrome-plated children, my gasoline-powered treasures?”
His wife crosses her arms. “Yes, Tom. We’re married now. You can’t spend your whole life out here inhaling motor oil and whispering sweet nothings to carburetors. It’s either me or the cars.”
Tom’s eyes widen. “You can’t just ask a man to choose between his wife and his cars. That’s like asking a kid to pick between Christmas and Halloween!”
She sighs. “Well, maybe this is the moment for you to grow up.”
Tom rubs his chin like a philosopher in deep thought. “Grow up? Honey, you knew what you were signing up for. On our first date, I picked you up in a car. On our second date, I took you to a car show. On our third date, I let you sit in the car while I changed the oil. This isn’t a hobby, this is a lifestyle.”
His wife shakes her head, unimpressed. “A lifestyle? You mean an expensive addiction on four wheels.”
Tom gasps dramatically. “Addiction?! No, no, sweetheart, this is love. You can’t sell love. You can’t trade in happiness for a minivan and an air fryer. Do you want me to die inside?”
At this point, Tom kneels in front of one of his hot rods like he’s proposing all over again. “Don’t listen to her, baby. Daddy’s not selling you.”
His wife rolls her eyes. “Oh, for heaven’s sake, Tom, it’s just metal and tires!”
Tom springs up. “JUST METAL AND TIRES?! That’s like calling a diamond ring ‘just a shiny rock!’ These cars have names, personalities… they’re practically family! Remember when you cried during The Notebook? That’s how I feel when I wax the Mustang.”
His wife bursts out laughing despite herself. “Tom, you’re ridiculous.”
He grins. “Exactly. Ridiculously in love—with you and with these cars. But don’t worry, honey, I’ve figured out the solution.”
She raises an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? What’s that?”
Tom smirks. “We’ll just move a bed into the garage. That way, I can spend time with you and the cars.”
His wife shakes her head, muttering, “I married a mechanic with commitment issues…” but she can’t help smiling.
And Tom? He picks up the rag, pats the hood of his Chevy, and whispers, “See? We’re safe, girl. Mommy was just kidding.”
