This weekend involved a crucial step in "Project: Get rid of the 164"-- the engine transplant. The vehicle is less a pile of parts and more a car now. Soon, the new owner will be able to drive away in it, when he gets the chance to come to town again. The 164 is a bit of a sore spot for me. This is the vehicle Mark bought just days before we closed on the house, in my opinion, not a good time to make a large purchase. We carpooled out to the east side of the state and drove it here. That was the only time we were in it running before Mark decided to embark on a full engine rebuild. The engine was in about a million pieces in our basement. He made progress, but more urgent matters needed to be attended and the rebuild was set aside. The car has sat idle and without an engine ever since. That is until a friend of Mark's agreed to take it on, in exchange for the car for a reduced price. Only he lives in New Jersey. Months ago he came by and collected up most of the engine bits to work on at home. This weekend it was ready to be transplanted back into the car. I needed to bear witness. Typically something disastrous and/or hilarious occurs when these characters get together to work on cars, so I wanted to be ready with the camera. Fortunately, nothing disastrous happened. Near the final stages of actually lowering the engine in with the engine hoist, I was struck by how analogous the scene was to being in the labor and delivery room with my girlfriends. Three male friends coming together for the birthing of the engine into the car. All of them wearing blue neoprene gloves. Mark standing aside gently providing guidance and advice, "Just a little further, you're almost there!" while the other two carefully guide the engine into place. After two long days of labor, it took a few tries, needing to raise the engine slightly, shift position and re-lower until the engine engaged the mounts. "I need three quarts of oil STAT!" It was a beautiful thing to witness.