The "Aw" Car

The light was turning yellow; I slowed to a stop and waited.  A familiar shape appeared on my left. I knew the color, year, make and model. I could see the Michigan Tech and United States Maine Core Decals still remained on the rear window.  It was rustic beige 4 door late model VW Jetta.

The windows were rolled down. I knew why on this hot summer day. The air conditioner had been disconnected long ago; deemed a gas saving move by an eccentric mechanic. My eyes roamed from bumper like a woman eyeing a pair of diamond studded shoes.  I may have been hanging out my car window, I don’t remember.

My longing gaze caught the attention of the driver, who looked in my direction and then quickly looked away.  The light continued to hold us in suspension.  I wanted to reach out and touch the car, hoping to bring back something, something lost to me.  I looked at the light, still red.  I looked back at the car; the driver was looking at me, a strange expression on his face.  Did he think I was trying to pick him up?   No not him, just the car.

Suddenly the light change, he drove away and with it the tangible reminder of my Father’s eccentricities. 

Daddy really liked that car. It had a manual transmission so not just anyone could drive it. It was the best car for teaching a new driver; something we insist upon in our family (I’m saving that for another blog). He liked to fix it himself, until his hands gave out.  It looked like Hell.  He never washed it, never. The decals on the back window were his Pride and Glory:  Michigan Tech and United States Marine Core.  He had put these here to represent my twins and whenever anyone asked he proudly told them about his grandchildren.  He would go on forever about their accomplishments.

When Daddy died we made the hard decision to sell it, we were not sure anyone would actually buy it.  It sold quickly.  I was shocked and saddened.  I hoped that someone would take care of Daddy’s car just as he had.  A few months ago child #4 and I were putting groceries in the car when he said “There goes Grandpa!”  I looked up to see Daddy’s Car cruising down the road with a pizza delivery light on the roof.  It was an “Aw” moment that was shared with the family.

Yesterday’s sighting sent me into that “Aw” moment again.  I drove to the grocery store with misty eyes.  I was missing my Daddy more than ever; the car was a painful reminder.  At least someone was taking care of that one eccentric memory and has not fixed the air conditioner.

Peace.

NEPb

The Me Ride

Everything came together perfectly: there were no children, no pressing chores, no personal commitments, no personal injuries, and the weather was perfect.

We have a bike friendly town, two bike repair shops, a University campus with more bike racks than parking places for motor vehicles. Any where you turn there are paved paths for walking and as I see it, BIKING.  An old railroad line has been paved and turned into a trail connecting our town to the nearby town.  It’s extremely popular for biking and hiking. 

  

This morning I found myself in the best possible situation.  I could go for a bike ride my way.  I didn’t have the children with me complaining that one was going too fast, the other too slow.   There was no complaining about not wanting to take this trail,  or being hungry or tired.  It was my bike ride, all mine.

As I hit the first long hill, breezes blowing in face, I started thinking about writing this, and then about other projects I was writing.  “Darn, you are procrastinating again.”  And then again to myself “But you need this time to clear your head.”

Do we ever get over the self loathing, the guilt of leaving things unfinished when we are out treating ourselves to quiet time?  I had to clear my head of all guilt to enjoy my ride, my quiet time.  Focus on me. 

We all, no matter our circumstances must remember that we need a little “me” time.  Time to gather thoughts, clear the cobwebs and get ready for the next challenge that life throws at us.

Personally days like these are rare for me.  I savor them like that Key Lime yogurt  I eat every day.  I’m going to take full advantage of it and feel no more guilt and have no more battles with myself for the rest of the day. 

Now where are those tees?  I am heading for the driving range to beat up a few balls.  I hope I don’t hurt anyone.

Peace.  nepb

Daddy's Authority

Our parents teach us many lessons through the years: many we didn’t know we were learning at the time they were being taught.  My father was a Chemical Engineer; directions and rules were to be followed pretty much to the letter, there was no room for the ridiculousness. My mother worked as a secretary, her career was more about customer service and seeing that people were treated fairly and politely.  Thursday, rules, fairness and the ridiculousness went head to head with my Mother leading the fight.

Now about Mom: As a child I would cringe when she had something she had to return.  She never backed down from a fight. If it was defective, hell or high water, she was getting her money back.  I remember particularly an Aigner purse. It was the early 70’s in Durham; the maroon dye was coming off and getting all over anything that came in contact with it.  She took it back to the store.  I walked out into the mall, too embarrassed to stay in the store while the manager and Mom went round and round over that purse. She was never rude or used foul language, but she argued her case, and won. 

Thursday evening picking up my daughter, she informed me of her visit to the local Cable Company. She was paying her bill and picking up another digital converter box that she discovered she needed.  Six or so months ago the company had switched their system and everyone was required install this device. The only information needed at that time was address and account verification: Easy. 

This time was not so easy.

The clerk on duty Thursday took Mom’s check, checked her account and informed her that William, the account is in my father’s name, would have to come in and sign for the box. My mother was astonished.  She informed the clerk that William had been dead for 3 years, and had never, in their 30 plus years of being clients, signed for anything in that office.  The clerk told my mother she would have to come back with a death certificate at another time.

As I’m sitting in my mother’s living room listening to this story, my mind is racing back to the past.  All those times when she gave managers, clerks, wait staff, anyone who provided bad service the “what for”.  And Daddy, what would Daddy say?   I pointed to the bookcase where Daddy’s ashes resided.  “Well there he is.  Take Daddy with you tomorrow, that’s what Daddy would say if he could talk.  Let him sign for their little .50 cents box of plastic”.  Before I knew what I had said she was laughing and agreeing with me. 

I wondered to myself if I was setting her up for time on the sixth floor.  Would they lock her up as some crazed old woman?  Gosh, I hope not.  “Better take someone with you Mom, It’s not every day, that someone walks into a cable office with a dead man’s ashes”. 

Now I can see financial institutions, real estate dealings, and other legal matters needing proof of death, but this was for a 3 inch piece of black plastic.  An elderly woman who has had an account for over 30 years was asking for one more box. What did they think she was going to do with it? Sell the secret technology to our enemies?  Contact alien stink bugs?   The whole situation made me mad.

Mom took “Daddy” for a ride Friday morning.  She took my son with her as well.  She picked up the little box.  The women in the Cable Company had a really good laugh, as did Mom. They will get many miles out of this story.  As for Daddy, I know he would have done the same thing.  He taught us lessons about ridiculousness,  not to put up with it.  Mom still has some lessons to teach me.  I hope I am good student. 

NEPB  peace.