Monday, July 07, 2008

Papaw's Ride


During the last 25 or 30 years of Daddy's life he most often chose a Cadillac to be his personal car. I "inherited" the last two that he drove. They both were a Godsend -- came when I was down to the rims on my own worn out cars.

Daddy always kept me on the road. Gave me my first car (a 1962 Red Chevrolet - more about that later), helped me borrow the money for the first car I bought (a Green Pointiac Lemans). He'd help me work on my old cars in his garage - or come and haul me in with a chain when I broke down on the road.

He stood beside me when I bought my very first brand new car - a Blue 1976 Toyota Corolla. He didn't want me to buy a foreign made car and did everything he could to talk me out of it. But when he saw that I had made up my mind he went with me to the dealership, did his "Denny Crane/John Bain" routine and helped me cut the salesman's throat and steal all of his sales commission!

Daddy and I were reflecting back on that car only a little while back (I would still be driving it if I hadn't wrecked it on my way to preach a funeral). I was gratified to hear him say, "Son, I never wanted you to buy that car, but I was wrong (I don't believe he ever actually said those last three words in his life --- I just inserted them because I wanted to imagine hearing him say it) that was a damn good little car!" I put over 350,000 miles on it.

Now, back to the Red Chevy. Bright red -- not really in fashion, but it was in spotless condition and ran like a top. I was 16 and had wheels.

It was a Saturday night and I was going to pick up Mark Carden and we were going to the movies together. I picked him up --- and right at the end of Mark's driveway I pulled out in front of an on-coming car. No one was hurt --- but my car was totaled.

I learned something about my Dad that day. I had misunderstood him and misjudged him about a lot of things already. The worst thing I had ever done in my life to that point was to call him from the Carden's to tell him about the wreck. Mark's Dad, Bobby, offered to make the call for me --- but I knew that this was something that I had to do myself.

I dialed 353-3289.

I can't remember who answered the phone but I don't remember having to juggle whether to tell Momma (which would have been easier) or ask to speak with Daddy. I believe that Daddy answered the phone.

"Daddy, I've had a wreck."

I wasn't expecting his response. "Are you OK?"

Then, "Was anybody else hurt?"

"Where are you at?"

"I'll be right there." And he was.

Even when he arrived he wasn't mad. He didn't yell at me or seem to be concerned that the car was ruined.

But . . . . I did have to BUY my next car!!

It was just about two years ago that Daddy sold his El Camino and gave me his old black Cadillac
and went down to Randall Smith's and bought the last car he would ever deal. He was worried about dipping into his savings to make such a purchase but me and Danny and John encouraged him to do it. I'm glad he did. He enjoyed driving or riding in a good car.

During the last year when Danny or I would take him to the doctor or to dialysis we would most often take him in his car. His bag and his things were always in it, his osigin tank. He was graciously giving up driving privileges to us and to Joe --- content to be a passenger --- but most comfortable if it was in his car.

I'd goose the gas, stop short with the brakes, cut corners too tight or jump the railroad tracks on Cedar Lake Road. And he'd say, "Son, you don't know how to drive a good car."

But I'm learning.

I'm grateful that in settling Daddy's affairs that his car came into my possession. It is meeting a need again, like he did so many times before.

I'm never closer to Daddy and his memory than when I'm riding in that big white monolith. Seat reared back, one hand on the wheel, driving slowly, carefully, intentionally. Feeling like I'm Somebody! I'm John Bain.

Old White is a little confused to have the AC cranked down to 65 degrees ---- but at least he knows that the driver knows how to drive a good car.

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