The old fellow who lives across the street, Frank, is about 85 years old. I opened my garage door one afternoon a couple of years ago and looked over at his place to see him all humped up in one of the wheelwells working on the front brakes of his Dodge Minivan. All the support I could see was a 2x4 under the rear tire and a bumper jack extended to the top notch on the front bumper.

I grabbed my floor jack and took off running, pulling it across the street as fast as I could, making one hell of a racket and slid it under the front crossmember, quickly taking the stress off the bumper jack. I explained to Frank that I would be right back with jackstands and wheel chocks.

His wife got a good laugh when I said that Frank was too young to die under a car.