| S helps me take it home from Dad's |
Now she's in her second year of college and working two jobs. One of those is at a shopping center where weekend before last she innocently had it parked exactly where another car needed to go after its driver completely lost control at an adjacent business, chanced upon a path between two young redwood trees, and crashed through the bushes down into the next lot.
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| Shit white cars do |
After some time passed deciphering confused texts and calming youthful nerves, I contacted the other party's insurance company and found that the car rental company they usually work with had one office that was still open on a Saturday afternoon, and it was the closest office too. So we played musical cars -- daughter got S's car, S got the truck, and I got the rental -- and I had my dad's car towed to my house.
It sat for a week. Neighbors wondered what happened. A small boy curiously picked at it for damage souvenirs. I removed blankets and articles of clothing and papers and books and other objects of a volume only a teenaged girl could accumulate in one vehicle. Finally the insurance adjuster came around and spent a couple hours combing over it. He looked at every little thing, determined its probable resale value before the accident, estimated the repair costs, and correctly predicted that it would be declared a total loss. Apropos of nothing, he was the brother of a co-worker I knew twenty years ago. Finally there was nothing left but for me to call their towing company and have it removed.
When tow day came, a mixture of feelings arose in me. I wanted to stay home to see it go away. I wanted to come home from work and find it gone. It was the single largest tangible asset my father had left behind, and hints of a weepy sentimentalism kept trying to crawl up through the cracks. In the end, though, I came back from work last Friday to find it gone, and I shed no tears, just took a picture of the spot where it had been and went about my evening. (And what an evening: West End Wonderland at Blackbird.)
It didn't take long to see the blessing in it. I am loaded down by a lot of things and need simplification, and it seems the Universe gave me a little simplification by taking my father's car away in the easiest way possible. I get to exchange it for a little more money than I thought it was worth, and hopefully buy a reasonably good little Honda or something for various kids to use. No emotional baggage, just taking care of biz.



2 comments:
Funniest caption ever! (Shit white cars do.)
Aww, I think you guys were in that car when we all met for sangria in Huntington Beach.
Lotta memories. Great story.
But in the end, it's just business. Yeah. I had to throw out so much of my parents' stuff omg. Generally I don't care about that sort of thing, but damn... so much. I had no room and no funds to pay for storage. I have a few pieces of my mother's jewelry (and so do the girls) and my dad's wedding ring. That's it apart from photos.
Sad.
I can't believe the stuff Dad kept, and that I've been foolish enough to keep too. I should toss it all, with maybe a picture and a paragraph to mark some of it passing.
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