Jakron’s wife had invited her friend’s family over for dinner that night.  While Jakron, or “Jack” as he Americanized it, wasn’t particularly enthused by the occasion, he made his best effort to accommodate his guests.  On most Friday nights, Jack would find himself in his garage, toiling away at his car with great care.  But this night he would have to forgo his passion, and have to bear the kind of stilted conversation he always had with Americans because his English wasn’t up to par.  To his surprise, however, Staci and Sam arrived graciously.  During the meal, Jack and Sam built a substantial rapport founded on their similar tastes in automobiles.  Feeling for once accepted by an American, Jack invited Sam to his garage in order to show him his latest work.  As they passed the threshold, Jack sighed with relief as he returned to nightly home.  Sam perused the garage, eager to discover what supplies and trinkets Jack had brought over from Europe.  He found on the floor next to the car’s front wheel a small bucket with some strange writing on it.  He held it up and asked his friend, “What’s this mean?”  Jack replied somewhat condescendingly through his thick accent, “Polish for car.”

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