The Garage

Emma exited the house via the front door. She wanted to check out the garage, but as old as the house was, the garage wasn't connected. In fact she would guess that when the house was built, there were no cars and the garage was an addition built years later than the house itself.

Emma rounded the corner of the old house and saw the garage with it's door raised. There was a white pick-up truck parked in it. Rust lined the tailgate and the wheel wells. A heavy burlap tarp was covering the front half of the truck. Emma wondered if it even ran.

Besides the truck there was a work bench, filled with greasy looking tools and spare car parts. Emma assumed they belonged to the dilapidated truck.

Emma noticed movement past the truck and saw her Uncle stacking the firewood he had cut that morning. "Oh, hi Uncle Edward."

Edward turned with a start, "Emma? What are you doing out here? This is no place for a lady."

Emma laughed and said, "Why, Uncle, are we a bit old fashioned? A woman's place is in the kitchen? Men only, near the cars and machine stuff?"

Her Uncle stepped around the truck, pausing to tug the tarp back in to place, and said, "No no no, nothing of the sort. I'm as open minded as they come. I even think you lovelies should be allowed to vote someday."

They both laughed at the joke, then Edward continued, "I meant it's dirty out here. This is no place for a lady wearing fancy clothes. Unless you desire to get rust, dirt, or grease all over them."

"I see. That's a bit better." Emma conceded.

"Now why don't you get, young one, before you ruin your fancy skirt." Edward said, showing his dirty hands to Emma.

There wasn't much to see out here anyway so Emma said, "OK, fine. Bye, Uncle," and turned back to the house.

Well that was a bust, she thought.