Day 3 of Blogtober is about cars. I have been able to drive for 13 years but I know pitifully little about cars. So I will talk about what I do know.
I have owned 4 cars. An old renault clio, a C3 which I chose because it looked cute but which repeatedly died on me, a Vauxhall Zafira which was kindly written off by another driver on a roundabout last November and then this. A Hyundai Matrix. If you think it looks like an old man’s car, you would be quite right
The old man’s car
My children have spent more time in this car than I have. In fact, the day I got it Col and Bess jumped into the back and having opened their secret hiding place, they proceeded to pull out a little plastic horse, a pack of pencils, a few shells and some other assorted oddments. A small handful of memories.
This car used to belong to my Grandpop. He loved to drive, he and my Nan would often have Col and Bess to stay and take them off to the beach or woods for lots of playtime. Even when we moved 150 miles away my Nan and Grandpop would drive in this to meet us at the beginning of the school holidays so they could whisk Col and Bess away for the duration of the half term. As soon as the children caught sight of this car they would get so excited to see their Great Grandparents. To them this car meant adventure.
That was quite a few years ago now. My Nan has since passed away (fuck you cancer) and then last November I was involved in an accident (decided in my favour by the insurers) which resulted in my previous car being written off.
Around the same time it had become apparent that the Parkinsons my Grandpop was suffering with was getting worse. A lot worse. It’s strange and scary to see someone you love be affected by ageing and all that comes with it. Especially when they have to deal with a condition like Parkinson’s too. I think most people know about the involuntary shakes associated with the disease but not about the other stuff. It really robs a person of who they are. Mentally and physically.
The day after I told him my car had been written off, my Grandpop called to tell me that he made the decision to give back his driving license. He said it quite matter of factly (as is his way) but I could hear how difficult and brave a decision this must have been for him. He wanted me to have his car. An offer I was not expecting.
I felt so conflicted about the offer. Of course I was incredibly grateful but also sad. Sad that we had to accept that things were changing. The Grandpop who would turn up and get stuck into some gardening or fix some DIY catastrophe was not going to be around anymore.
I of course accepted
So now his car is mine. It has been nearly a year since he signed it over but quite honestly I don’t think it will ever really feel like it’s anything other than Grandpops car. I am ok with that. It maybe isn’t the prettiest car in the world but it has something which not a lot of cars have. It has love ground into the carpets (along with god knows what else) and it has a place in the story of our little family.
ps. My foot still hurts, fingers crossed it’s better tomorrow!