Pieces

This last week my mom sold the Chevelle. This is a car that my dad bought in high school, let my mom drive when they were dating, brought me home from the hospital in. To my mom, I guess it has some great memories, but for me it has none. I do not remember riding in this car at all. This car has been parked in a field or driveway my whole life-under a tarp. The only thing I do remember is how my dad used to talk about it. He had a manual or a magazine-that one could order car parts out of. He had stuff written down, and circled. He would say, if we asked him what he wanted for christmas or his birthday, that he wanted this (he pointing to something in that book-which was always a few hundred if not thousand dollars....) The emotional part of this car came for me on an evening a few days before my mom sold it. We had no info about this car. Knew almost nothing of its worth now, as it sits, or if it had been in good condition. I jumped on the world wide web and surfed around. I found a plethera of cars, the same make, same model, the same options-as our Chevelle. Only, they were in prisine condition and worth 20, 30, 40, and yes even 50 something GRAND. Yes grand. I had just spent an afternoon crawling around, under and through our car to get pictures. On the web I found a Chevelle that had the same everything. The same seats, door handles, head lights, AC option, everything. The car on the web worth 30 grand. Ours, well, it was rusted, paint faded, neglected. Neglected. And the momentous realization hit me. I could not breath. White hot tears, an epiphany and not in a good way. This car, our Chevelle, was my dad's failure. I realized while he was busy doing all of these other things-the jeeps especially, the Chevelle had been neglected. I didn't understand it. I still do not. For some reason my dad, the person who had been so careful about guns, and little babies, and dogs, had left this car-this car that was valuble out in the weather to rot. I am confused. I know how he spent his time. I do not judge how he spent his time. He did spend plenty of it helping others and being with others that he enjoyed and enjoyed him. But this night I realized how overwhelmed he must have been with his decision to for go this car. To let it wait. AND I also realized how horrible it might have been to have to look at it everyday as he came and went from his house. To know he didnt have the means or the time to fix it up. He was overwhelmed. My heart broke a little bit, for my dad and the Chevelle, and all the other things I believe he really wanted to do but could not. So there are some pieces. And I drove by Big O Tires today, and saw the old Amos Rents (or anus grunts as dad used to say) work truck. It was painted with a nice Big O Tires logo, and for some reason it makes me very happy, and I cry, because for some reason it feels like there are some people who can make those broken pieces of my heart, those broken pieces of my dad, better. My mom sewed new apholstry in that old truck, and Garth has taken it and uses that truck, and has made it nice again. New again, given it a purpose again. And the Chevelle? I felt the same way the night the guys loaded it up on the trailer. It was going to a good home. A nice shop, where someone was going to fix it up, and enjoy it, and hopefully love it. And I hope one day, I get to see that car in all it's glory. And someone will have taken that big piece that was broken and mended it. Made it right. For me, for my dad. He could just not do it all. I understand. Same with the purple jeep. Someone is taking care of that thing, driving it, loving it. And hopefully the same for the race jeep, which is in our storage shed. To me, that was one of the greatest creations my dad had made with his hands, and his time. And this realization of what happened with the Chevelle has only made me realize how glad I am to have that jeep. A trophy of his dreams. Dreams that did come true. And although it is others that are putting together the things that dad could not do, I don't mind. He did so much for us, for others, I hope he doesn't mind that others are finishing his work. I hope that he isn't overwhelmed anymore. That he is finding peace. He had a hard time asking for help here in this life. I hope those guys enjoy the car. I look forward to seeing it one day, that big, dumb, 40 year old, orange piece of my dad that made me cry so hard that night....good luck guys. Huck a few wrenches for Russ...