A few says ago,I decided to teach the only Gen Z in my house some life skills.After all,a lady isnt all about memes and Tiktok dance videos.

“But Dad, I was planning to upload a new dance vida(slang for video) today” she protested, still groggy. I pretended not to hear her and dragged her to my trusty jalopy. A good dad has to play deaf sometimes to get things done.

“This,” I started, patting the old car like it was a prize bull, “is a masterpiece of Japanese engineering. Today, we’re changing the tyre.”

The young lady rolled her eyes at the car’s peeling paint twice. She is the one who, a decade back, gave the trusted family car the endearing name ‘Tianna’ after her favourite character in Disney’s “The Princess and the Frog.” But time has slipped through our fingers, and the family car, once a dazzling toy, now stands old and weary—just like my empty pockets.

I handed her the wheel spanner and pointed at the tyre. “You need to loosen that nut.” She raised an eyebrow.

“Can’t we just take it to Maish, your mechanic?”

Once again, I played deaf.She then looked at the wheel spanner, the nut, and then at me. With a sigh, she got down on the cold concrete. After a few futile attempts, she pulled out her phone and started typing.

“This is no time for texting your friends, young lady,” I growled.

“I’m Googling how to change a tyre.”

“Google? We don’t need Google! We have me!”

Ignoring my rants, she found a step-by-step tutorial video. “Ah, here we go,” she muttered, following the instructions and loosening the nuts in no time.

“Well, I suppose that’s one way to do it,” I muttered, slightly impressed but refusing to admit it. She then deftly propped her phone on a rock nearby and followed the tutorial until she had impressively changed the tire.

“You’ve tried. Maybe there is hope for this generation after all,” I said.

“And maybe there’s hope for you too if you learn how to use Google.”

Somehow, we had found common ground, however messy.

“Anyway, thanks, bro,” she said as we locked the toolbox.

“Njambi, when did I become your bro?” I asked her, bemused.

Now that’s a story for another day.

Gilbert Mwangi

Creative writer,dreamer,and Drum Major for all things true.

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