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Some were in wonderful condition and the owners stood proudly by with soft cloth in hand wiping constantly to remove the smallest fiber of dust from the hood or fender. Some could only be called a car because it had 4 wheels, part of an engine and a steering wheel. Maybe a fender or hood. Anyway...there they were. And we looked at almost every one of them.
"Oh, look, honey" I cried, "a 1735 Wonderwhopper with curb feelers and hard top convertible with a 936 duel exhaust overhead cam and it's a cute shade of green!" Hubby found no humor in that and gently reminded me that cars were not around in 1735. Humph. Shows what I know about cars.
He goes shopping with me, I go to car shows with him. It evens out. Maybe next year our 1953 Buick will be ready to make the trip. She was embarassed to go this year since all her chrome is off somewhere being made all pretty. I'll grab a wide-brim hat, white gloves and enjoy watching people watch us. I'll sip sweet iced tea and thank them for their comments while assuring them this car is not for sale. (Oh yeah? Just how much money are we talking here????)
I found a shady spot to sit and sip the wonderful cold lemonade and let Lucy the spoiled chihuahua rest on my lap while Hubby pranced up and down a few rows like a kid in a toy store. He came back and informed me that a car had asked to see me. Said something about reaching back into my memory of days long gone by and someone that I loved so very much.
I walked down the row, turned the corner and saw her. She was a 1957 light blue and white Pontiac. She was in pristine condition. That is the car by which my Daddy judged every other car he ever owned.
He would say, "Drove her off the showroom floor and put every mile on her myself. Best car I ever owned." He only traded this car because the family was expanding (thanks to brothers invading my 'only child' existance). We ended up in the traditional station wagon that hauled kids, dogs, football equipment, and tons of other stuff.
Every time he traded cars he would say, "Now if this one will just be as good as that old '57 Pontiac, we'll do just fine." Oh yes, my Daddy loved that car and it evidently lived up to his trust.
I stood transformed back to the years of my childhood and could almost feel Daddy's hand on my should and see the smile on his face as he looked at the car he deemed worthy of praise.
I felt the lump in my throat that comes more often that I like to admit when I'm missing my Daddy and just need to feel his presence.
While we stood there remembering, an elderly gentleman came up and said, "She's a beaut, aint' she?" Words failed me. Hubby said, "Yes she is. Looks like you've taken really good care of this one."
I blinked back the tears when he said, "Yep, I drove her off the showroom floor and have put every mile on her!" The pride shown from his eyes and the smile on his weather beaten face gave proof of his love for that old car. He smelled of Old Spice and worn leather. His hand were gnarled with the arthritis that captures joints when they have been around for a lot of years. I wondered if he had ever put those hands around a little girl's shoulders as she stood on the seat beside him as they went for a Sunday afternoon drive? I hope so. Those were the days before seat belts and gas was cheap enough to afford a drive on the back country roads so parents could show their children the beauty of the country in which they live. Those were the days when Daddy's had time to spend with their daughters and build a relationship that would last a lifetime.
Shades of the past? Oh yes! Shades of remembering cars that have been an important part of our own characters. We saw a '68 Camaro, VW Vagabon, and even a few old relics that reminded us of our own past. My Hubby's love affair with cars is second only to his love affair with me. I'm thankful he wanted to share these warm Summer days looking at old cars with his wife who knows very little about the name or year model of most of them.
I'm glad he found that old Pontiac and remembered my telling him the story of Daddy's love affair with that car.
Now before you all get all sappy and think this man is working toward Sainthood...he's got a few mall trips behind him and some more ahead. He gets to look at shoes and purses and doesn't know the difference between Dooney & Bourke and Coach.
I guess it all evens out.
Mz Scarlett...yes I can change the oil, fix a flat and know what a carburator does. I just choose not to do things like that anymore.
