Today coming home in the car, my husband Ron and I passed an old 1954 Chevy decked out with red and yellow flames on the hood that was so popular from that time. It made me think of my grandpa who bought a brand new '54 Chevy right off the assembly line when I was about five years old.
Grandpa never drove unless grandma was with him. He never learned to read and grandma was the copilot who read the road signs for him. Whenever we saw the car pull in the driveway, we knew that grandpa AND grandma came to call. Occasionally Lorna, my younger sister and I were the proud back seat occupants stretching our necks to see out the high windows. In those days if you were a little kid, the only way to see out the windows was to stand on the hump on the floor or kneel to look out the back window. We knew better than to ask for either and were happy just for the privilege of coming along for the ride. That car was grandpa's pride and joy next to his beloved wife.
Grandma died in 1957 and that was when grandpa hung up his car keys. Without his partner and copilot at his side grandpa was now permanently grounded. The Chevy still sat in the driveway beside the house but, instead of waiting for it's familiar and long time occupants, it now waited to be sold. I was only a seven year old girl but I was old enough to know that once that car left the driveway a part of my cherished past would be leaving with it.
The day I found out the car had been sold was like losing my grandmother all over again. I was reminded again that there would be no more visits and no more of those smothering hugs that I loved so much. The one person who shared the secrets of my heart was gone from my life forever. The sale of the car made it final.
Dad found the buyer for grandpa's car. A young man with big plans. Dad was a body man and was chosen to do the new paint job. I didn't know why dad wasn't pleased about it until we saw the car on the road. Lorna and I were on our knees looking out the back window playing one of our numerous games when dad hollered, 'there does grandpa's old car!' I looked out the window but all I could see was a dark colored car with red and orange flames on the hood and down the sides. We were told that this was the paint job the young man had wanted. The job that dad did. The young fellow honked his horn and waved to dad with a big grin. Mom said he looked proud. I said that we shouldn't tell grandpa. Dad said he already knew. I said I didn't like it and Lorna said she DID. She said that if grandpa sold the car and didn't want it any more, then the new owner should be able to do whatever he wanted with it. Lorna was always wise and always thinking even at four years old. I knew she was right but it still didn't make me like it.
I thought about that car and what it meant to me. It was obvious that the others didn't share my feelings. They had their own and each one was right. For them. That made their thoughts or opinions as logical and as valid as my own. One individual's opinion doesn't fit everyone.
This was only one of many lessons I would learn in my long life. Sometimes we learn without even knowing. What started out as just one memory reminded me of that.
Meri