Lewy slept well through the night and into the morning. I finally woke him up for some hot cereal and his pills. No sooner had I finished putting up the dirty dishes, a very nice South American lady came to bathe Daddy.
She was so very kind and gentle. She shaved his face, cleaned out his ears, and cleaned all those really gross places that had blood goo from the catheter and a tiny bit of poo from his rear. Bless her. She explained the bed changing technique so well I think I could actually do it now….maybe…
He looks so good shaved. I had been content to take him with me to the beauty shop for a trim, but not a full blown shave…..I think he will miss going to the salon with me. He got all kinds of hugs from the ladies there.
The hospice Chaplain came by. A very nice young lady. I think that is it for today’s visitors. But talking to the Chaplain reminded me of some of the fun stories to tell about my Dad.
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When I was in my early/pre teens Daddy sold Fords. Back then Fords were really cool. They had big engines and huge white wall tires. And they had Mustangs.
Daddy, always loving to make a deal, took me out riding one afternoon to a very small town up on the Plateau. We really (as far as I knew) did not have any specific plans. Being a Ford salesman, he decided to drive by the local Ford Dealership.
There in the middle of the showroom was the most beautiful car I had ever seen. It was a “Candy Apple Red” 1964 ½ Mustang with a black rag top. I was in love. Now you might think it strange that a car salesman would buy a car from a strange dealership, but not with my Dad. If he could talk the guy down to almost no profit, he would buy it. And so he did.
“We” traded in the old Oldsmobile that my Mother drove all the time for the Mustang. It was soooo cool. What a great car. I was in heaven. Daddy put the top down and we drove the 100+ miles back home.
But rather than go straight home, Daddy drove over by the elementary school where I went and stopped the car in the middle of the road. He got out walked around the car opened my door and said “Get out, your going to drive us home.”
WHAT!!!! I GET TO DRIVE!!! OMG!!! THIS IS SO COOL…..Oh please dear God, let one of my friends see me….
Sure enough, I went around to the driver’s seat, and Daddy rode shotgun. He asked if I had been paying attention to how he drove... YES YES YES…I didn’t dare say no…
The truth was; I had been paying attention. Careful attention. He pointed out the brake and the gas and had me press on both…"No with your right foot…always the right foot." Then the clutch. “Always use the left foot on the clutch”…He then explained how you press on the clutch and lift off the gas, then press on the gas as you lift off the clutch. We sat there in the road for 10-15 minutes, with him telling what all the “things” were.... Not a single car came by…
Then he said. “Let’s go home.”
I turned on the ignition and popped the clutch causing the car to leap forward and then I killed it. “That was very good. Now try it again, easy on the clutch.” We gave it three tries before I got the car in gear and rolling. “Push down on the clutch easy and lift off the gas easy” …… He put his hand over mine and helped me shift the gears…We drove around on a flat area for a bit then he had me drive to the edge of the hill.
“Stop the car”. Ahh No..., I figured it was all over. But it was great fun, none of the kids would believe it when I told them…Geez, I might be cool for 2 minutes…
I started to get out. “No No” I’m just going to show you how to navigate a hill.
YEAH!! I’m still driving…Please someone come by and see me, please…I restarted the car and followed all the directions, but on the hill I was having clutch issues. I just could not get the thing to do right. All I managed was to go a few feet and stop, kill the engine, try again…over and over.
Daddy was truly brave now that I think about it. Or maybe he was prepared with the hand brake…but we were headed straight for a steep drop off. He let me get so close to it, I was afraid to try again.
He got out - came around and got in the drivers seat. He left me standing in the road. He put it in gear, backed up, got it straightened out for me, then turned it off and got out.
“Come on drive us home.”
I got in, started the car and with a few herky jerky moves got the car going and I drove the 3 miles to our house. I put on the blinker and turned into the driveway. Momma was out digging in her flowers. She stood up - put her hand up over her eyes to look at this strange car and who might be in it.
She dropped her hand shovel and came running to the carport as I pulled in and stopped. I killed the engine accidentally, but it wasn’t too bad…I don’t think she noticed.
Even better, my older brother saw it too. He started in on Daddy immediately to let him drive, but Daddy wouldn’t do it.
That was my big day, and he wasn’t going to spoil it for me by letting my brother take the car. YES! YES! YES!
That night at dinner he told the story of how he whittled the guy down to only $25 dollars off his cost, and how nice a drive it was, and how he taught me to drive that day.
I was 10 years old. Oddly enough it was a good thing he did teach me to drive long before I was old enough, because in later years, still before I was old enough to drive, I ended up having to.
Today, they would probably put Daddy in jail for letting me drive, but it was one of my best kid hood days ever.
Thank you Daddy….I’ve always loved telling everybody about how I learned to drive in a Candy Apple Red 1964 ½ Mustang with a black rag top.
2 comments:
Stella said...
This is good, Pauline, this is your daddy. When others look our way, they see Freddie, an old man who is talking with no sense at all. When I look towards him, I see my soldier boy. I see those brown eyes with the twinkle and the smile which said, "I will always love you". Apple red Mustang? You can't beat that, no matter how you try.
oldfriend said...
Stella's right, Pauline, it's in those memories of Candy Red Mustangs where you will find your Daddy. And those hills...I could never forget them!