Sunday mornings usually belonged to the garage but today belonged to the clubhouse.
I woke just after six with sunlight creeping through the curtains above Lawson Customs and for a few peaceful minutes I simply lay in bed listening to Diesel snore softly from his favorite spot beside the bedroom door.
"You know we're supposed to be up early." I said and one ear twitched.
"That's the effort you're making?" I asked.
His tail thumped lazily against the floor before he stretched so dramatically that I laughed.
"Fine. I'll make breakfast." I said.
After a quick shower and brushing my teeth, I pulled on a pair of faded blue jeans, a white T shirt and an old flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled to my elbows. It felt strange not putting on my work shirt for once, but the garage was closed a
