Affairs are seductive and secretive, Affairs are sweaty and titillating, Affairs have long lasting consequences… Affairs are wonderful.
My first Affair began in 1979, she had just turned twenty years old the day we met. I brought her home to meet my parents. My Mother just smiled, my Dad said she wasn’t safe; she needed work and a man’s touch, not a boy’s silly imagination.
On that Easter morning, me and my dad, more my dad, put a new set of brake shoes on the Old’ Girl… a 1959 Fleetwood Cadillac. My dad’s Sunday morning present has lasted more than fifty years and five thousand miles of travel.
When I drove my Bride from our wedding, she was with me. We brought the twins home. We drove to and from numerous proms and parades. Rodeos love to see the Queens exit those pink doors and draw the raffle tickets. The grand kids love ice cream trips. We left the cemetery where we prayed over my parents earthy farewells. She remains with me to this day.
My first Affair, My first car… I’m sixteen years old every time I drive her.
Then life moves one, something new, shiny and modern comes along and catches your eye. Another Affair begins…
What can I say? It’s just a piece of metal with rubber tires. With no gas or oil she goes nowhere. Insurance companies, convenience stores, safety/emissions, auto repair and tire stops, speed bumps and every deer heard in the tri-county area loved them.
But… with a lump in my throat… this car, our car, was different.
Years ago, October 1994 to be exact, at the yearend sale, me and my Bride, hand in hand went to several dealerships. No one could meet our needs or demands. The Bride wanted Camille Red-Code name Purple, five speed transmission, AC and that amazingly ridiculous optional color matching $750.00 rear spoiler! We ended up at Larry H. Miller in Murray Utah. After a multi-state search and two days later our Colorado car arrived in SLC. Larry and the team pulled out another victory.
We made our one car payment and the journey began.
My Bride drove her home, smiling and happy. Those first fifty miles, watching those two, were my happiest miles. We both then went for a drive together, smelling her like rich French perfume. Neither I nor my Bride had ever purchased a brand new car. We had arrived.
We went to work, grocery stores, paid bills/taxes, doctor appointments, we brought TWO baby cribs & TWO mattresses home in that car… “ I told you they would fit “ was my victory yell. We went were the Atlas maps showed the roads as dotted line… ’’Trust me baby doll, we’ll get home safe,’, turned into her “ NO MORE TRUST ME TOURS!’’ We traveled to Disneyland, The Redwood forest, the Pacific Ocean, Yellowstone, Grand Canyon, Baby blessings, Court of Honors, Mission Farewells, Family reunions and Funerals.
The oldest daughter borrowed her twice and dented it twice. She hated it and thought it was cursed or possessed (see 1957 Plymouth Christen). The son took the car and his date to prom, took his nephews and attempted to “drift” but most revealing is their traveling of excess of the odometer reading. Funny, you learn these things once your kids move from your roof and arms reach of being strangled.
The Bride, the son and even I, have all contributed to the Emery/Carbon County mule deer thinning process, windshield repair industry, and head light parts manufacturing businesses.
The Purple held strong.
The twin girls come along. They renamed her/him to Randall (see Monsters Inc.) I made them learn the manual shifting for their Drivers License. It was a difficult summer of Sunday afternoon time for teacher, both students and the car.
After the transmission was rebuilt and with a new clutch, Purple Randall was strong again.
Purple Randall took the girls over the hill to a world of learning, growth and adventure. What more can a dad ask?
One evening, I and the Bride got a call no parent wants to hear. A very long drive latter, I saw a different Purple Randall. With its smile gone, I thought our journey had come to an end. Nonetheless, at that moment, a profound feeling of gratitude for the 380K plus miles she traveled with us and then to end up the wrapping of those two air bags around my little girl, showered over me. Thank you Purple Randall.
Purple Randall sat in the back yard of my beloved neighbors. A few parts were salvaged and used to create Blue Randall. Months later, only to be totaled by the same driver, we as a family have collectively banished her from driving ANY Civics for life.
Then, a wonderful and kind neighbor, Del Funk, brought over a treasure trove of purple Irises, purple Russian sage and other purple flowers. What was to be done with all this purple color? …I had the perfect corner on 300 West and 200 North and the perfect match. A Perfect Smile and Laugh for everyone to enjoy was our loved and treasured Purple Randall.
These past few years I have found myself between a rock and a hard place more than I ever desired. That was it!… Purple Randall and I, were not done with each other yet. As she is traveling DOWN the road of life she finds herself between a rock and hard place….just like me, you and many others. The answer…surrounds yourself with nature, color and beauty and everything will work out!
RIP Purple Randall, either my children, grand children, great, great,… great grand children or city official/judge will remove you from between your rock and hard place. At that time, it is my wish and desire you go to a wrecking yard, be used as parts for a restoration, end up like a Friday afternoon thanksgiving turkey carcass… picked apart, then and only then, what remains be melted down and sculptured into something…. beautiful again.
Sign me out, Enjoying the ride, the view and loving those curves…
Carl A. Jacobson
Castle Dale, Utah
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