Road Trip

Dad, I get it now.  It took a road trip.  Atlanta, Chattanooga, Nashville, Iowa City, St. Paul, round trip to Chicago, and all the country in between.  4022 miles since I picked up your car in Fort Myers April 15th, and drove it home.  The miles 'twixt then and now changed my perspective.

I have never really been a car guy.  Yes, I used to watch you, and help you wash your many cars as a kid.  And yes, my first car was a Fiat Vetture Special 1200cc red convertible, bought from the neighbors for Steve and me to share while in high school.

A 1951 Studebaker pick-up truck with a six cylinder flathead, overdrive and a column shift moved Becky and me around Atlanta while in school. And with your generous gift of the Jeep for our wedding present, we explored Oregon top to bottom, peak to shore, before giving up on it by our second Minnesota winter.

 From then on, with kids, dogs, coaching and family trips, it  was minivans and lesser sedans before settling on two PT Cruisers as company cars, which I loved for their romanticized retro-style and functionality.  After all, it was function I needed.  As gas prices inevitably spiked - two Prius's still move us around well at a low cost - solidly functional cars.  Perfect for Becky, me and the dog.

Something happened though.  I could not bring myself to sell your 2007 Saturn Sky two-seater convertible.  It was calling to me in some silent chant - and it looked like fun.  Oh yes, I remember when you drove it "up north" to visit us in North Oaks in September 2008 - the little black book I found buried in the glove box tells of the entire history of the car, with little narratives here and there about the gas mileage, wax jobs, all in meticulous detail. I might have rolled my eyes and probably whispered to myself "oh Daaaad!" at your apparent wheeled indulgence, but your beaming countenance bespoke your love of cars, and this one especially, as you had many cars.  And I know you longed for it in the past year when it sat in the garage, and you had too much trouble dropping into the very low seat.  I know you loved it, and now I know how much.

Oh yes, it does "go"!  I found that out quickly on I-75 north, where Florida and Georgia drivers challenge my own limits of speed and proximity to a bumper in consistently heavy traffic. And managing the 6+ lanes through Atlanta, driving into the sunset in the north Georgia mountains, finally finding peace on the road, nestled in this close, tightly fitted cockpit, the deep hum of the engine whisking me deep into the emerging verdant spring in Tennessee, then north through the midwest heartland a day later.

You called it your "chick magnet", seemed like a stretch for a 90+ year old fella, but you delighted in taking your equally geriatric girlfriends out to tossle their hair a bit and perhaps witness their giddy girlish delight.  But driving on a sunny day to and from work - top down because I could and it was a perfect day - I witnessed this "magnetism" as two blondes in a VW Beetle with its top down slid onto the highway next to me - each of us catching a knowing glance and a thumbs up!  People have even emerged quickly from their cars at stoplights to ask what kind of car this is.  It catches the eye - I see that!

I have been showing it off, speaking of it, looking at it, and washing it, twice now, wiping it dry to a gleam with a chamois as you had taught me.  I drove it to Chicago last week for a conference - with the top down the whole way - 7.5 hours - marveling the big sky view through the beautiful central Wisconsin countryside, taking note of eagles and a sandhill crane flying above that would never be so visible in my other vehicles. Oh so cautious and aware in that last 22 miles into Chicago, white knuckles in the narrow lanes under construction and crazy fast Illinois drivers, but confident in the solid grip and handling.  And oh, what an experience to drive down LaSalle Avenue in the Loop, through a canyon of stone and gleaming glass, in bright mid-day sunshine looking up at the marvelous skyline while I sat crawling along the jammed city street.  Seven hours to get there, a half hour to go the last mile!  But it was fun.  And when I finally  landed in my Parker Hotel room, the horrific sunburn on my face said it all.

I came home yesterday day, top up, casually gliding back.  Cleaned it right up and admired the gleam. Yes, I get it now.  I was channeling you all the way back home from Sanibel, Iowa City and Chicago - you were glad to have taken the same trip - as I know you were there in spirit!