The driveway was sandy and damp from the combination of his sandblasting and the early morning rains.  It was surrounded on three sides by the house (small but upkept), the two car garage used as a shop (a bit newer than the house but still the same colonial grey), and a row of old trees which kept the way shaded and cool.  To the rear, the driveway emptied onto a recently paved dead end street.  The pavement, usually hot, was protected from the sun by a slight overcast.  In front of the shop, stood various objects related to his trade:  two saw horses, two rotating car body stands, and several automotive parts waiting to be blasted.  They seemed to have been cleansed by the rain, but all would be grimy to the touch.  It was Sunday, and my father slept peacefully with dirt under his fingernails.