Grandpa's Wisdom

I hear Craig and Lisa now have a new car. I guess it's the latest Toyota brand SUV. That's "Sports Utility Vehicle". I haven't seen it but Grandma has pointed them out on the highway as we drive. It's a nice car and I know it is serving them well. I got to thinking about "Boingo", the trusty brick they had when they first got married, when the boys were just babes, or not born yet. It was the car Craig brought to the family and he'd had it for about a hundred years before he and Lisa met. But it was trusty and got them from point "A" to point "B" and that's what a family car is supposed to do.

It got me to thinking about the first family car I can remember as I was growing up. It was a 1936 Chevrolet. My dad would never buy anything but a Chevy, just like he always bought his gas at a Shell station, smoked only Camel cigarettes and only banked at First National Bank. He was set in his ways. But that '36 Chevy was reliable. My earliest recollection of our family car was pretty early in my life because I remember not being able to see out the windows because I was too low in the seats. The seat belt we had then was the belt my dad had around his waist. He promised to use that belt on on our "seats" if we played around too much as we traveled, especially on long trips. My brother Mike and I would draw a line on the fabric seats that divided his space from mine. If either of us crossed that line, an argument would start and shortly after, the car would stop and Dad's belt would come off.

The most vivid memory I had of traveling was the time we took a Sunday drive up the Columbia River Highway. Now, at this time the nice, wide freeway down along the rivers edge had not yet been built. We traveled what is known today as the "old Columbia River Road". It was at the higher elevation, and passed by Crown Point and the rest stop there. It was a very winding, narrow road, even in those days. We started the trip about mid-day, (Mom was always hard to start). We stopped for the views at Crown Point, picked huckleberries at Larch Mountain and visited Multnomah Falls. It was late when we started back home and a raging storm chased us all the way back. The wind was howling like it does in a monster movie, the rain pounded the windshield, the wipers beat a constant rhythm from the front seat and all I could see from my low vantage point was darkness. None of us in the car spoke any words as Dad piloted the car through the winding curves of the narrow highway. But all of us had faith that my Dad could deliver us from this "evil". And sure enough, even though the night seemed long to me, we soon were amongst the lights of Troutdale, safer and straighter roads, and only about an hour and a half from home.

I don't know why this is a trip I remember so vividly, because nothing happened to make it stand out, except the storm and the darkness. I was very frightened until Dad got us to safety. I think now it is when I began to respect and admire my Dad for the strength he represented in our family. He was quiet and calm all the time, but sure of his actions and always seemed to know the way and what was right. Today I appreciate the way each of my sons and sons-in-law demonstrate this same characteristic to each of their children. It comforts me that my grand kids are in good hands.