My Dad's Old Clunker
Last Update: Aug 7, 2020
Mellon's car had such a big hole in her windshield, it reminded me of a story that happened with one of my father’s cars.
My dad drove an old Plymouth. Get this while he was Director of CBC on the radio side. Not kidding. He didn't care much about cars. He'd learned to drive at 35 years old, so to him, a car was just a convenient mode of transportation.
The car was so old, it had a big hole in front of the front passenger seat. Huge hole. A child could have easily gotten out. So, whenever I sat there, I would be careful to tie my shoes. I once lost a beloved loafer down that hole.
Anyway, the whole thing began to be the longest living joke, and it made my father giggle. Very little made him laugh. He'd been a Jesuit priest before he married my mother and had a slew of children. From the frying pan to... well, never mind.
One day, he ends a meeting and drives from the office to pick up an opera star at the airport. It was pouring rain, and the woman was capricious and didn't want to wait for a taxi. She wanted ’Reynald’ to come and get her.
Did I mention my dad was a gentle, quiet charmer? So, he picks her up in the old Plymouth. Yep. He did. He also always had the 'mot juste' the 'double entente' word that made people roar. Anyway, he cautioned her before she got into the car not to put her feet down and not to leave her fancy umbrella on the floor.
When she asked why he indicated the hole at the front seat.
She screamed and yelled his name. She took a bit of convincing, but she got in, careful not to put her feet in the hole. When he pulled away, water from the rain puddle where he’d parked flew up in her face, all over her dress.
She stared at my father, outraged, emitting sounds indicating just how livid she was with no wiggle room for doubt.
At a light, while he told her to be careful not to lose her beautiful shoes, Dad took the umbrella she was clutching in one hand she held high, opened it, and put it upside down over the hole. All she had to do now was to steer the handle to keep it in place.
She stared nonplus at his little smile and suddenly burst out laughing. She laughed and laughed. When they got to the office, thirty minutes later, she was still laughing, drenched in road water, but still giddy.
Years later, when I arrived in Paris, France with friends, I got into another guy’s old Renaud beat-up car, ripe with rust and holes of its own. My friend elbowed me, prompting me to tell this guy about my dad’s old car story. My round eyes and quietly menacing expression said no, but when we stopped at a café, I caved.
I said two lines, and he finished the story. Someone I’d never met before, thousands of miles away from where this had happened knew the story. He didn’t know my father’s name but knew he was the Director of CBC. He’d heard it from his mother who’d picked it up from her hairdresser who’d gotten it from an old opera queen when she’d gone to her place to do her hair. My mother always hated that story. She would laugh, but also found it embarrassing. My dad would tell her not to worry. "A story like that doesn't travel."
Funny and amazing! Thanks for sharing Joss.
Hi Joss, I thought that was a great story, got a few chuckles out of it. I too once had a car with holes in the floor.
That's a wonderful time in your life, Michael, when you like a car so much that you don't want to part with it no matter what. At least, that was my dad's excuse. Have a great weekend.
Hi Joss, I loved every car I owned and parting with them was not easy.
Have a great weekend,
Some heck of a story and joke behind it Joss, LOL!
Thanks for sharing.
Have a bless weekend.
You also, Elizabeth. The fun memories we have. My dad who wouldn't part with his car because he would quote 'Lamartine' a French poet who believed objects had a soul that attached itself to ours.
Lol, thanks for giving a smile on my face. Florentino
True story. Actually, there were many more instances with the car. But I thought I would leave it at that. Have a blessed weekend, Florentino.
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That's excellent, have laughed heartily at that. You see your father had made it so didn't have to prove anything to anybody. We could all do with a bit of that!
Yes, my father had his doctorate in philosophy, need I say more? We spent many hours discussing the great prophet's reasoning.
Oh I like those discussions, I have lots of options lol
My father liked Thomas of Aquinas, he did his thesis on him. Then there all the other philosophers. It made for animated discussions around our dinner table.