Car People

It's a gloriously sunny day in our little town today, so we took advantage of the break in the weather to enjoy a morning stroll along the cliffs by the waterfront on the west side. I thought I would scope out some good sketching places. I've decided the time is right for me to "retire" at the end of the month, for a variety of reasons, and art therapy is supposed to be good. Perhaps both of us will benefit!

But I'm going off on a tangent, as I often do. Back to my main point, which is that you just never know what you're going to see or whom you're going to meet when you go on a walkabout in our small city.

My husband and I were standing on the sidewalk, admiring a house we've (well, to be fair, that should be "I've") always loved. It's a cream and green Tudorish place on a well-situated corner, just a block or so from the water. When we first moved here some 35 years ago, it was for sale but needed some work we weren't prepared to undertake, given that the price of the house was at the very tippy-top of our budget, it only had a one-car garage, and the yard was too small for even the tiniest garden. We bought elsewhere, but every time I walk by this place, I think of what could have been.

At any rate, the next-door neighbor happened by, and we got to talking about the house and how the garage would have been too small for my husband's collector cars (at the time, a '36 Cadillac and a '36 Buick). The gentleman brightened and insisted that we meet his son, who was in their shop working on his pride and joy, a '63 Chevy pickup. It turns out they're part of a car club we'd joined but then were really unable to participate in due to my husband's illness. Who knew? They want to come by to see my husband's projects. Thank you, Julian and Sean, for reminding me that just one small thing in common can bring out such good will in people. I hope you do drop by.

The sad thing, of course, is that my husband can no longer work on his projects. But car people are car people, and they love to kick tires. Even if they don't exactly remember why.