I picked up The Grandson about 11 this morning, and we went to pick up Eugene (the Wrangler).  On the way, he narrated the 'coon huntin' trip.  He said he did put it in 4WD in a muddy spot, but it didn't get stuck.  When we got to the shop, one look at the Jeep told me he hadn't buried it bumper deep in mud; it just had splashes on it.  

The mechanic was on the phone when we went inside.  The Grandson immediately took out his phone and went to googling, or whatever.  I strolled around the room looking at the racecar pictures on the wall.  They were pictures of the mechanic's race team holding up giant checks. I summoned The Grandson, pointed at the pictures, then pointed at the mechanic.  Dude has evidently been racing since he was born.

The mechanic said all he did to Eugene was put his transmission fluid line back where it belongs.  Nobody has a clue how/why it came off, except that maybe the shop didn't put it back on tightly enough when they worked on it in the fall.  When we left the shop, The Grandson shook the mechanic's hand and said it was nice to meet him.  When we got outside, The Grandson said, "That old guy was sooo cool."

We parted at the driveway; he went north, I went south.  To Hobby Lobby.   Got some sketchbooks and a can opener.  Almost got a Bob Ross toaster (it puts his face on the bread!), but talked myself out of it.  Now I wish I had bought it. ;)