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