This is James. Well, it's his legs. The rest of him is in the trunk of my car, replacing the brake light that went out just as I arrived at Becky's house in Washington, D.C. a few weeks ago. I had collected Becky at work, since she was without transport, having recently totaled her car in the cold snap a few days earlier. You can still see all the snow left over from that.
So, we pull up to her house, and a warning light comes on in the Jetta. We are concerned, and both have much to say about it.
"What does that mean?"
"I haven't a clue."
"Where's the car's manual?"
"What, it's not in the glovebox?" (It was, but I couldn't find it. It stays perched in a special secret bin at the top of the glove box. Now I know...)
When I took this picture, I hadn't been stopped more than 3 minutes, been introduced to James, one of the two other roommates sharing the nice home near Falls Church. Becky launches into our warning light dilemma.
We test the lights. It's a brake light, we all discover together.
"I think I can help," says James. And off he goes to the garage and brings back a light bulb for my Jetta's tail light, climbs in the trunk, and proceeds to be very handy. I look at him, all handy and helpful and adorable, I turn to Becky and say, "I have a man in the trunk of my car! I think I'll just close the trunk and take him home with me." We considered however, that maybe the Jolly Roger would object.
But we both agreed as to how convenient it would be to have a geological engineer /handyman on-call in the trunk of one's vehicle for just these sorts of predicaments.