August 12, 2020
Our car was a Mercury. Maybe it was the name. Maybe it was because it took us places,
sometimes far, sometimes just a few miles away. It took us to see Nanny and Poppy, Uncle
Frank and Aunt Sophie How could I not love it. How could I not get excited as we headed
towards one of it’s four doors. It was travel. It was adventure. It was the potential to see
cousins. It was potential to interact with family other than my mom, dad and brother.
Whatever reason why, I remember it well.
It’s almost wing like sides, outlined in chrome, made the car look even longer than it was as I
stood toddler sized.
The chrome metal bumpers would reflect my image as I walked near the car. I would take my
finger and run it along the metal letters that stated what model the Mercury was. I remember
the chrome would have bumps expressing it’s age and exposure to the weather. During an
infrequent washing, the strings of the towels would get trapped behind those letters and multiple
strips of chrome. I would carefully pull the strings out, trying not to damage anything. A little
pimple here and a little pimple there of Mercury character would dot the very large, very shiny
bumpers. Little girls always like shiny things and this car was no exception.
Boasting a baby blue interior, I like the coziness, the safety of being so close to my family in one
space. I enjoyed riding next to my mom, standing snug to her right shoulder, as she
mysteriously maneuvered the giant blue wheel, shimmying it a little to the right, a little to the left
in a way that kept that huge vehicle traveling in a straight line. Her petite hands looked even
smaller while gripping that oversized wheel. Her small frame strained as she would parallel park
a 4000 lb chunk of metal without power steering. It hadn’t been invented, yet.
Pretending to drive a car, while sitting in a cardboard box, I would use the same technique with
my make believe, invisible steering wheel.
I never gave up the opportunity to climb into a large cardboard box and take control of the
invisible wheel. With the assistance of my old coffee can of crayons, I carefully drew the
dashboard in front of me. Once the necessities were drawn in, I would take a comfortable seat,
and grab the wheel. Turning it a little to the left, a little to the right, I tried my best to duplicate
my mother’s driving skills as she maneuvered the manual steering Mercury down the road. My
imagination drove me to my favorite places. I made my way around the curve and over the
small brook, that I imagined the street was named for, and towards the parkway to visit with
Nanny and Poppy, Uncle Frank and Aunt Sophie and a plethora of cousins. Of all the things in
the world, when I was young, and still now, I wanted to spend time surrounded by family.
Driving adventures were as endless as my imagination. Until my vehicle became worn, torn and
tortured, would my driving adventures come to an end, only to anticipate the arrival of another
cardboard box that needed to be driven.
