Dad's Lincoln

                The weather was warm – what we call the calm before the storm. The gas attendant was gingerly cleaning the gas pumps. Not seeing the point of cleaning them when a storm was approaching, I told the story about my dad.

                “I remember once when my dad did that, “ I mentioned as I got out to fill my tank.

                “He was cleaning his nice, fancy car inside and out. Actually, it was a used Lincoln and it was December 23, 1983…”

                We lived out in Lake Los Angeles, California. A lake it wasn’t, just dirt and wind. To clean a car was pointless because it would just get dirty again, especially if a storm was coming. Dad practically spit-shined that car. We drove out to Sylmar to pick up my step-mom from work. While we were waiting for her to get off, Dad started picking lint and other unseen tidbits off the upholstery. Sarcastically, I said, “Guy, Dad, it’s so clean you could lick it off!” He scowled at me to mind my own business. The next night the sky let loose some heavy rain. We drove to church and then out to the cemetery to visit Uncle Ray’s grave. Ray was one of Dad’s older brothers who had died the previous June. The road leading to the cemetery was called Avenue S. It was dirty and not well developed like it is today. It was filled with pot-holes and muddy water that splashed all over Dad’s nice, shiny, clean car. I snickered and laughed like  no other! It was payback. When we got home, Dad sprayed that car off good! I don’t remember if I said anything else after that. I probably did, knowing my frame of mind in those days.

                The gas attendant smiled. I think he needed something to do to keep him busy – being that it was Sunday in Utah and slow.