1951, Again

There was a cinematic quality about him. His frame stood tall, lean and confident. His skin glowed with experience and a luster that can only be gained with the years. His voice was pure, deep and clean. His jeans were slightly worn but the patina on them was not accomplished at the factory. Rather, the woven fatigue gave testament to the fact that he climbs underneath cars with wrenches and rides horses. And his silk shirt and brass inlaid belt buckle and over-sized watch……..well, you can fill in the blank.

It was his car that first caught my attention. It reminded me of the car that my father purchased in the late 1940s. It was similar to the car that brought my brother home from the hospital after his birth. I was lost in the nostalgia of my past but his presence broke through and, suddenly, I was interrupted. My chain of thought was derailed.

His face spoke to me well before his lips moved. And everything that we discussed thereafter mattered dearly to us both. And when I spoke, he not only listened, but he heard. This is a man who quickly connects.

I explained to him that my father left behind to his children his beloved 1949 Packard. I explained that it has sat mostly idle since his death. I asked him if he knew anyone who might want to buy it. He did. He has a friend who is likely the perfect buyer. But he refused to give me his name.

Rather, he encouraged me to make my father’s dream fully alive again such as he had done to his 1951 Mercury Monterey. He told me it would be tedious, unreasonably expensive and that I would question my sanity at least six times through the process. He told me that it would take “forever”. He told me it would test my marriage.
Then, he told me, when the restorartion was finally finished, it would be worth all the pain. Finally, he pulled out his ace card: He said that I should do it for my father.

He was speaking such nonsense to me from his heart that it made too much sense to mine. I already have too much to do and to little time do it. If I live to 150 and never add another item to my bucket list, my children’s children will have to finish it for me. But….

Roy Berg, thank you for a most enchanting conversation. And thank you for putting bugs in my head. I always relish my days at the Worlds of Wheels Festival, but you made it quite special for me this year.