Okay. So first of all, nobody warned me that garden hoses have opinions. Dad asked me to help wash his truck today. Easy, right? Wrong.

The second I turned on the water, that hose jumped in my hands like it had been waiting all week to embarrass me. I tried to get a good grip on it. That made it worse. I tried holding tighter. That somehow made it even worse.

Water sprayed across the driveway, hit the garage, splashed the flower pots, and somehow got all over me instead of the truck. Dad was laughing so hard he nearly dropped his coffee. Then he had the nerve to tell me, “Stevie, you’re holding it too tight.”

Which felt rude considering I was actively losing a fight with plumbing. He said to loosen my grip and stop trying to force it. Apparently the hose behaved better when I stopped wrestling with it and let the water run steady. I hate when people are right.

Once I found the right amount of pressure, everything worked. The water flowed exactly where I aimed it. The soap rinsed away. The truck started shining.

Dad said I finally got the hang of it. I told him the hose finally got the hang of me. That’s definitely what happened.

Still completely soaked,

Stevie