Growing up I can remember a few tales that taught me to be a better person. One of my favorite stories involved a dog, his bone and still water. A little dog was walking along with his yummy bone in his jaws happy and content. When the dog happened upon a still body of water, he saw another dog in the reflection.

Ask the man on the street where he heard the best fish story and he is likely to say, “around a campfire.” Yes, the campfire setting has the distinct advantage of an environment conducive to tall tales.

There is no replacement for displacement. I have heard this well known saying my entire life. Everybody from drag race veterans to my eleventh grade auto shop instructor.

Today was going to be the day that I was going to drag myself out under the sun to begin getting my yards ready for spring. While winter has been stubbornly hanging around these past weeks, rain and subsequent sun has brought out the weeds.

Danica Patrick is a female in what many would consider a man’s sport. Patrick is a race car driver and a very successful one. Being a woman in a man’s world has not been all bad for Danica Patrick.

A few years ago my dad and I were in the garage changing oil when I heard a peculiar but wonderful sound. It was a deep exhaust burble that was not familiar to me.

The White House is touting the recession is officially over despite the fact that the economy is moving at a pace that makes Cal Trans workers look speedy. There is no denying that business, especially the car business, needs a jump start. Washington's bailouts saved General Motors' and Chrysler's bacon, but did not pan out too well for the tax payers.

Executives are very important people. This particular breed of worker participates in power meetings and power lunches and spends much of his / her time in a corner office with lots of windows.

I was sitting on the couch this evening watching TMZ and wondering how much of their content is true and how much is speculation. For example, both Maria Shriver and Arnold Schwarzenegger were seen recently wearing their wedding rings. This is interesting because Shriver has filed for divorce and has told friends that it is over, but that was last month. While this development may likely be true, how much "real" news begins as nothing more than a rumor.

Ahh, the holidays are here - mistletoe, eggnog and packed shopping malls. I would be lying if I said I did not enjoy the holidays despite the season's annoyances. Lets see, there are beautiful light displays, time with the family and gift giving.

Thanksgiving is a time of reflection for me. I think about all of the things that make life worth living, the little things. I am thankful for my loving family and a job I enjoy. As most folks would be, I imagine. I am also thankful for mono block aluminum brake calipers and double wishbone suspension ... without these things life would truly stink.

Some people say "nothing lasts forever." I guess that is essentially true, especially among the rich and famous. Kim Kardashian and her long-legged, basketball-playing, out-of-work husband Kris Humphries are calling it quits after seventy two days of marriage.

I have noticed lately that people have different ways to show their displeasure for others. Some folks make a clever (or not so clever) sign and camp out in a park with others who have the same disdain for Wall Street, banks in general and rich guys. Then there are people who pelt golf superstars with nitrate - filled wieners. I am talking about thirty - one - year - old Brandon Kelly, the guy who chucked a hot dog at troubled golf great Tiger Woods during a tournament. This wacky sausage flinger said he was inspired by the film Drive to do something "epic." Yea, he definitely did something "epic," epically silly.

It was late as I sat in a comfy chair in my hotel room. I was watching television while my wife slept. We had a big day in San Francisco planned.

Most people I know like to reminisce about the "good old days." Car people aren't any different - well, we are, but we do reminisce. Like an old song or grandmas apple pie, some old cars send our minds into rewind. My father tells me tales of his old 65 Chevy Impala super sport and I can't help grinning when I think back to my Y2K Acura Integra GS - R. Well, those killer rides are long gone, but car makers are churning out old cars as I write. Confused?

I enjoy working. When I am not laboring at The Sentinel, I work in my yard, in my garage or on a car. I am happiest wiping sweat from my brow with a wrench in my hand and a faint aroma of industrial solvents in the air. But, I do relax from time to time. There are a few places I can be found relaxing, both locally and on the coast. I like Lodi and Stockton for dinner out and some laughs with my dinner companions; but I often find myself in San Francisco and most recently Carmel. There is something alluring about the cool sea air, tourists snapping photos .... and the cars.

When I was young starting from a stop was effortless. Now that I am getting a little older I need a little help to get moving. Whether it is my wife telling me its time to get out of bed or the smell of fresh Starbucks, I do need a jump start. Your cars engine is very similar, your engine needs help waking up also. The gasoline engine needs the help of a small, but powerful electric motor appropriately named the starter. Without the starter you would have to turn a hand crank directly connected to the engine. These hand cranks were located at the front of the car and I can assure you...they were not fun.

When I was a snot nosed little scamp, I was charged with some simple chores. Taking out the trash, loading the dishwasher and mowing the lawn were a few that come to mind. However, my father would like to forget that he saddled me with lawn duty because I made a total hash of it. I was known as the sprinkler head assassin...my moniker should need little explanation. As a result of my gardening ineptitude, I was given the responsibility of auto detailer. Keeping my old man's station wagon and my mom's gorgeous Lincoln Mark VII sport coupe, clean and shiny was right up my alley.

The year was 1996 and several car guys and I were hanging out in a Vacaville garage. The Garage belonged to a good friend and fellow car guy by the name of Rick. Rick had an old eighty-eight Honda CRX. The guys and I were attempting to shoehorn an Acura Integra engine in the tiny CRX. This is not an easy task as the Integra engine is much larger than the original Honda power plant. We were doing this engine swap back before it was common. In a way we were pioneers or madmen. It goes without saying that a job like this is tough and takes a lot of ingenuity and well...cussing.

It all happened on a blustery May afternoon. The trees swayed back and forth as if under the control of an invisible howling breath. The sun was high in the sky, but seemed defeated by the chill in the air as every living thing shivered in the cold. There she lay on a hard slab, dead , a green mass slowly decaying. The scene was heartbreaking as she was once full of life. She had been there in the dark, alone for some time, seemingly forgotten.

It was a Monday night and I was pooped from a long night in the pressroom. I wanted nothing more than a cup of tea and an episode of Family Guy to relax. As I drove past A&W on my way to Highway 99, I saw a blinding light in the distance.

Last June while I was on my honeymoon in beautiful San Francisco, I saw something that made me feel like a boy again. My wife and I were on our way out for a night in the city when my eyes and attention were suddenly hijacked. We were staying at the Huntington Hotel and parked out in front was a big red toy. The Ferrari 458 Italia is a super car by definition; but it is more than just a car. The 458 is a beautiful creature, far more than the sum of her parts. The Italia is-- I am somewhat embarrassed to say-- car pornography. Ferrari made a pinup, plain and simple; eye candy that young men like myself can admire and daydream about.

Growing up I can remember a few tales that taught me to be a better person. One of my favorite stories involved a dog, his bone and still water. A little dog was walking along with his yummy bone in his jaws happy and content. When the dog happened upon a still body of water, he saw another dog in the reflection.

Ask the man on the street where he heard the best fish story and he is likely to say, “around a campfire.” Yes, the campfire setting has the distinct advantage of an environment conducive to tall tales.

There is no replacement for displacement. I have heard this well known saying my entire life. Everybody from drag race veterans to my eleventh grade auto shop instructor.

Today was going to be the day that I was going to drag myself out under the sun to begin getting my yards ready for spring. While winter has been stubbornly hanging around these past weeks, rain and subsequent sun has brought out the weeds.

Danica Patrick is a female in what many would consider a man’s sport. Patrick is a race car driver and a very successful one. Being a woman in a man’s world has not been all bad for Danica Patrick.

A few years ago my dad and I were in the garage changing oil when I heard a peculiar but wonderful sound. It was a deep exhaust burble that was not familiar to me.

The White House is touting the recession is officially over despite the fact that the economy is moving at a pace that makes Cal Trans workers look speedy. There is no denying that business, especially the car business, needs a jump start. Washington's bailouts saved General Motors' and Chrysler's bacon, but did not pan out too well for the tax payers.

Executives are very important people. This particular breed of worker participates in power meetings and power lunches and spends much of his / her time in a corner office with lots of windows.

I was sitting on the couch this evening watching TMZ and wondering how much of their content is true and how much is speculation. For example, both Maria Shriver and Arnold Schwarzenegger were seen recently wearing their wedding rings. This is interesting because Shriver has filed for divorce and has told friends that it is over, but that was last month. While this development may likely be true, how much "real" news begins as nothing more than a rumor.

Ahh, the holidays are here - mistletoe, eggnog and packed shopping malls. I would be lying if I said I did not enjoy the holidays despite the season's annoyances. Lets see, there are beautiful light displays, time with the family and gift giving.

Thanksgiving is a time of reflection for me. I think about all of the things that make life worth living, the little things. I am thankful for my loving family and a job I enjoy. As most folks would be, I imagine. I am also thankful for mono block aluminum brake calipers and double wishbone suspension ... without these things life would truly stink.

Some people say "nothing lasts forever." I guess that is essentially true, especially among the rich and famous. Kim Kardashian and her long-legged, basketball-playing, out-of-work husband Kris Humphries are calling it quits after seventy two days of marriage.

I have noticed lately that people have different ways to show their displeasure for others. Some folks make a clever (or not so clever) sign and camp out in a park with others who have the same disdain for Wall Street, banks in general and rich guys. Then there are people who pelt golf superstars with nitrate - filled wieners. I am talking about thirty - one - year - old Brandon Kelly, the guy who chucked a hot dog at troubled golf great Tiger Woods during a tournament. This wacky sausage flinger said he was inspired by the film Drive to do something "epic." Yea, he definitely did something "epic," epically silly.

It was late as I sat in a comfy chair in my hotel room. I was watching television while my wife slept. We had a big day in San Francisco planned.

Most people I know like to reminisce about the "good old days." Car people aren't any different - well, we are, but we do reminisce. Like an old song or grandmas apple pie, some old cars send our minds into rewind. My father tells me tales of his old 65 Chevy Impala super sport and I can't help grinning when I think back to my Y2K Acura Integra GS - R. Well, those killer rides are long gone, but car makers are churning out old cars as I write. Confused?

I enjoy working. When I am not laboring at The Sentinel, I work in my yard, in my garage or on a car. I am happiest wiping sweat from my brow with a wrench in my hand and a faint aroma of industrial solvents in the air. But, I do relax from time to time. There are a few places I can be found relaxing, both locally and on the coast. I like Lodi and Stockton for dinner out and some laughs with my dinner companions; but I often find myself in San Francisco and most recently Carmel. There is something alluring about the cool sea air, tourists snapping photos .... and the cars.

When I was young starting from a stop was effortless. Now that I am getting a little older I need a little help to get moving. Whether it is my wife telling me its time to get out of bed or the smell of fresh Starbucks, I do need a jump start. Your cars engine is very similar, your engine needs help waking up also. The gasoline engine needs the help of a small, but powerful electric motor appropriately named the starter. Without the starter you would have to turn a hand crank directly connected to the engine. These hand cranks were located at the front of the car and I can assure you...they were not fun.

When I was a snot nosed little scamp, I was charged with some simple chores. Taking out the trash, loading the dishwasher and mowing the lawn were a few that come to mind. However, my father would like to forget that he saddled me with lawn duty because I made a total hash of it. I was known as the sprinkler head assassin...my moniker should need little explanation. As a result of my gardening ineptitude, I was given the responsibility of auto detailer. Keeping my old man's station wagon and my mom's gorgeous Lincoln Mark VII sport coupe, clean and shiny was right up my alley.

The year was 1996 and several car guys and I were hanging out in a Vacaville garage. The Garage belonged to a good friend and fellow car guy by the name of Rick. Rick had an old eighty-eight Honda CRX. The guys and I were attempting to shoehorn an Acura Integra engine in the tiny CRX. This is not an easy task as the Integra engine is much larger than the original Honda power plant. We were doing this engine swap back before it was common. In a way we were pioneers or madmen. It goes without saying that a job like this is tough and takes a lot of ingenuity and well...cussing.

It all happened on a blustery May afternoon. The trees swayed back and forth as if under the control of an invisible howling breath. The sun was high in the sky, but seemed defeated by the chill in the air as every living thing shivered in the cold. There she lay on a hard slab, dead , a green mass slowly decaying. The scene was heartbreaking as she was once full of life. She had been there in the dark, alone for some time, seemingly forgotten.

It was a Monday night and I was pooped from a long night in the pressroom. I wanted nothing more than a cup of tea and an episode of Family Guy to relax. As I drove past A&W on my way to Highway 99, I saw a blinding light in the distance.

Last June while I was on my honeymoon in beautiful San Francisco, I saw something that made me feel like a boy again. My wife and I were on our way out for a night in the city when my eyes and attention were suddenly hijacked. We were staying at the Huntington Hotel and parked out in front was a big red toy. The Ferrari 458 Italia is a super car by definition; but it is more than just a car. The 458 is a beautiful creature, far more than the sum of her parts. The Italia is-- I am somewhat embarrassed to say-- car pornography. Ferrari made a pinup, plain and simple; eye candy that young men like myself can admire and daydream about.