When It Rains, It Pours…into my Car

My dad was a car guy. His whole life, he worked on cars, read about cars, put together models of cars, and drove some pretty cool cars. His favorite, hands down, was his old El Camino. Brown. Ugly as hell, but man did he love that thing. No matter what other cars he had over the course of his lifetime, from the 1966 red Mustang to the 1976 white Corvette, the El Camino was his baby.

But for the past few years, he’s been driving a white Lincoln MKS. I’d see him pulling into our driveway, his EP license plate leading the way, and his silly grin and wave, as he saw me from the front door. He’d start up the walk, and every so often, turn around, “Nice car, right?” he’d laugh. He loved that car.

So, when my dad passed in December, I thought long and hard. I wanted the car. I wanted to drive his car. I wanted to remember all the times he’d come pick me up and we’d head off for lunch, just the two of us, or the times I’d sit in the passenger seat, as he drove himself to a doctor appointment, and then I’d get to drive home. And of course, on the way home, we always had to stop at the local variety store so he could play his Quick Pick.

He had pictures on the visor, old scratch tickets in the glove compartment, center console and dash. There was always a variety of sunglasses in the passenger & driver side doors. “Hey, do you need a pair of sunglasses? I found them in an old car today at the auction.” My dad, in his later years, worked for Quirk Auto, driving cars to and from the auction. He found a lot of things in those old cars, but mostly sunglasses. And scratch tickets. Both of which, nobody wanted or needed, but he loved them, just the same.

As we started to go through the car, to get it ready for the title transfer, I opened the passenger door, and pulled down the visor. There was a picture of me and my dad, from the last family function we’d all gone to, just a month before. Yes, this would be my car now, and I’d leave that picture up, so my dad would still be a part of the adventure.

We picked up the car last week and I was so happy to sit behind the wheel. But as got in, and put my foot on the floor board, I noticed a bunch of ice. And water. And more water. And ice. Six gallons, to be precise. Over the past few months, as the car sat in their driveway, the sunroof must have been left open or something, because the entire console, driver & passenger sides, were soaked.

We’d planned on taking it to the dealership this week. But last night, you know what happened? It rained. It rained hard, and for a very long time. And guess what? The car flooded. Again. The driver and passenger seats, the center console, the visors…all soaking wet.

Shawn went to find a tarp, and when he came back to the car, he tossed the tarp on the sunroof, and ran to get some firewood from our pile, to keep the tarp from blowing away – but as he ran from the wood pile to the car, it did blow away. Twice. His coat was soaked, and the wind had knocked off his hood, so he was drenched. And as I watched him run back and forth, despite feeling his frustration, I couldn’t help but chuckle. My dad’s car. My dad’s personality.

My dad was always joking around.

Hey dad, you left your sunroof open. Good one.