We have a monster of a roof rack. It’s a beast of a creature that has lived in our two-car garage for over four years, hanging off to one side and taking up valuable yard-tool space. 

It’s made of untreated lumber held together by metal “L” brackets with wood cross bracing.

Like a long-distance relative, it showed up suddenly and unannounced. And, it hasn’t left since. 

I remember coming home from the office that fateful, summer Friday – back before the pandemic when I had to take a highway to the office instead of the stairs. 

As the garage door opened, it revealed a pile of lumber fastened tightly to the top of my artist wife’s SUV. Harnessed snugly inside it was what looked like one of her paintings.

I looked out my window at this thing on the roof of her SUV as I pulled my car into the garage. In doing so, I knew what was coming if I asked the question I felt I had to ask after I walked in the house. But it didn’t deter me.

As I opened my car door, dropped my feet onto the concrete, and walked slowly toward our backdoor, I chose my words wisely. 

As I walked in the backdoor, our then-young children eagerly ran to greet “daddy” as he got home from work (I miss those days). During those precious moments, I finished mentally massaging the wording of my question.

After hugging and kissing the kids and dispatching them back to whatever it was they were doing, I walked up the four stairs from the back landing to our kitchen.

There she was. Standing at our kitchen sink, in front of the window that looks out into our backyard and across into our garage.

As we made eye contact with each other, my eyes ever-so-briefly flitted out the window toward the open garage.

In that moment, she knew.

My perfectly worded question didn’t matter.

“The painting didn’t fit in the back of the SUV,” she said, “it’s too big. It’s the only one that didn’t fit.”

“But I needed it for my show at The Paint Spot this month, so I made something I could move it in,” she added, while gesturing with her hand out the window to the lumber roof rack on the roof of her SUV. 

I understood. Truly, I did. 

… I have always loved my wife’s ingenuity and creativity to think outside the box to solve art-business problems…

In fact, I have always loved my wife’s ingenuity and creativity to think outside the box to solve art-business problems in an affordable and effective way; even for just one painting. 

However, it’s been four years now. And she’s only ever used the roof rack to transport that single painting. One painting! That’s it.

So, now, this monster roof rack lives in our garage, eating valuable storage space. 

Far be it from me to suggest how she runs her art business — it is her business. But just the sell the painting

And if the painting itself isn’t enough to entice a potential suitor, then perhaps tossing in a free roof rack might help seal the deal.

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