Monday, April 19, 2010

The Grey Buick

Today my mom told me that my dad had sold his car. THE CAR. The car affectionately known as "the grey goose." I almost started crying.

No, I am not crazy. You don't understand the attachment I had to his car. He drove a 1985 Buick Regal ever since, well 1985. That car has been in our garage/driveway ever since I have existed on the planet. I must say that I developed a fondness for the car despite all odds. You see, after a while, the car didn't run so well. It made this awful sound like an emergency vehicle. I hated having to ride with my dad. The air-conditioning stopped working sometime in the 90's and I remember having to ride to my grandparent's house. It was so warm in the car, and I had to share the car with my two siblings. I think I complained the whole way there.

Unlike my mom's car, we weren't allowed to do ANYTHING in my dad's car. No food, no drinks. Don't touch the ceiling (because it started to droop at some point). I don't know if we were allowed to color or not. I suppose that it doesn't matter anymore. My dad treated that car so well. He loved it so much and he always made sure that it was in the best condition. He would park at the other end of the parking lot so "moron drivers" wouldn't hurt his car. I always knew my dad was coming home from work because I could hear him coming in the neighborhood long before I could see him.

By the time I learned to drive, I wasn't allowed to drive the Buick. There weren't enough safety features and my dad was afraid I would wreck it. When I would drive my car I was never afraid about hitting my mom's car or the garage. I would always look out for my dad's Buick. During the summer we would park side by side on the driveway. I always kicked people out of the car before I pulled in so they wouldn't ding my dad's door.

Not too long ago, my dad had the Buick touched-up. The droopy roof was fixed and the paint job was touched up. It looked really nice. I should have known something was up. He put the car on the market a few years ago, without any success. Somebody came by on Sunday and bought the car. Imagine my surprise. I always figured the Buick would still be sitting there when I came home. My mom and I used to joke that my dad would be buried in his car. Secretly, I believed it (Although that would be many, many years from now).

Now when I go home, the Buick won't be sitting in the driveway. some other car will be there soon, I suppose. I just hope that whoever bought the car will treat it well. I know that my dad taught me that with hard work, things can last for a long time. Owning a car is a huge responsibility, and it shouldn't be taken lightly. For that, I am grateful.

1 comment:

Kaitlyn Beer said...

awww!
you're not silly for almost crying about that. it's touching. forrealsies.
my dad had a car that had a droopy ceiling too haha
I liked this a lot :)
love,
katie