I typically have zero to do with car maintenance but Chuck was out of town and unable to get the tires rotated, so that little task fell to me yesterday afternoon. The mechanic we use is a little locally-owned place away from the center of town. Tire rotation takes only minutes (thank goodness) so the boys rode along with minimal complaints.

That is, until we crossed a few main roads into the older part of the city.

Jeremy: “Oh great, I don’t like coming over here. It smells likes cigarettes and old people.”

Jackson: “Old people aren’t scary.”

J1: “I didn’t say they were scary. They just smell different. And cigarettes smell even worse.”

J2: “Yeah, I don’t like cigarettes. But I like old people.”

J1: “I like them too, Jack. I didn’t say I didn’t like old people! I just said they smell different.”

J2: “Okay! Well I LIKE old people!”

J1: “JACK. I didn’t SAY I don’t LIKE old people! Can’t you hear me?”

J2: “YES. OKAY.”

J1: “They just smell different.”

There’s a moment of silence, and then Jackson adds: “Yeah, but they aren’t scary.”