An ode to an Old Gal with a flathead four-cylinder heart

My dad with the car sometime in the 90’s… he and friends restored it out of two cars, my mom did the interior seats and headliner; a true family treasure.

Summer in Saskatchewan doesn’t last as long as we would like…

That being the case, there are times when my days get away from me; sometimes for legitimate reasons and other times not so much. This newsletter installment is late for mostly legitimate reasons, at least I believe so.

Sometime near the beginning of June, Jaret and I invested in a used kayak. Canada Day weekend was going to be our first outing in the kayak along with our first overnight in a newly purchased tent. We were going back in time to a place where our much younger bodies slept outside on the ground and there were lots of arrangements to be made.

My little SUV with the big banana peel tandem kayak on her roof. I think she looks sweet even covered in Saskatchewan Road dust.

On the morning of our intended departure, we received the following picture from my middle son, Connor, with bad news; he had been involved in a car accident with our vintage 1928 Ford Model A, thankfully he was not badly injured but the old gal was likely terminal. This put a big wrench into the getaway plans.

We rushed to the scene just in time to see the ambulance pull away with Connor on board. His father was on the scene already as well as Ashlee, my daughter in law. The car was in shambles, thankfully my son made out much better, although the EMS wanted to take him in for testing to make sure there was no internal bleeding. There were no crumple zones or air bags back in 1928. He had taken a pretty big hit into the steel steering wheel and unpadded dash.

This whole scene was absolutely traumatizing. My son was in an accident in the car that my dad restored when I was thirteen years old. This car was the container of so many memories for me. Knowing that Connor was okay, we followed the tow truck to the claims’ centre to see if they would put it indoors. At that point, I was hoping it could be repaired and if I am totally honest, I was in shock at seeing this old family friend in such a state, with her vital fluids spilling out onto the pavement.

This Old Gal brought joy to so many people in her 95 years on the planet. When people asked how fast she went, I would reply 50 smiles per hour. It was not about the speed; it was about the joy on the faces of elderly and youngsters alike. It was about the vast collection of stories the old folks would tell us about their adventures “in a car just like this” back in their day. We could have written a book about those tales, a lot of them I am certain were embellished.

Following her trail to the claims’ centre, I was overcome with grief. Memories of my childhood years, my teen years learning to drive in that car and more flooded my eyes, overspilling into rivulets down my cheeks. I was thankful Jaret was driving. We were able to secure a space indoors for her, at least for the weekend. It was a strange feeling, like I was speaking for an elder relative, not a hunk of metal.

I remember the summer I learned to drive it. We were out at Grampa’s old farm. Dad told me not to drive further than I could walk back with my much younger brother. I stalled it a fair distance away and couldn’t get it going again. I think I was 13 or 14 years old at the time. Dad had to run out to get it going again so I could bring it back to the yard.

Another time, my friend Nicole and I took it cruising to the park, after sitting for a while chatting with boys, we headed back out on the road. We got half way across the Albert Street bridge when it stalled. That particular shimmy-shake brought many boys to our rescue, none of whom had a clue as to how to actually assist. After a few embarrassing moments, I realized I had not turned the gas lever back on. You see, in order to start that car, you had to turn the key, turn ON the fuel, pull down the spark lever as well as the fuel control, push in the clutch, hit the starter button with your foot while also balancing on the gas pedal. Nowadays, my SUV above does not even require I take the key out of my purse to start it!

I have always felt like a part of my dad’s soul was still with that car after he passed away in 2003; that he was present co-piloting as the boys and I drove. The Model A was front and centre at Connor’s wedding, a surprise for Ashlee and a delight for many in attendance; I am certain dad was there watching with pride.

The boys and I have talked about what happens next. I know the car will be a total loss from the insurance company’s point of view. I have neither the funds nor the desire to resurrect her; in my mind, my dad’s car is gone and I can accept that. They agree that it was getting more and more dangerous to drive that vehicle in modern traffic; Connor got away easy with the bumps, bruises, and cut lip in the accident, next time karma might not be so kind.

A plethora of emotions, memories, tears, and smiles course through me at this moment. I am thankful for this gift that my dad left for his grandsons to enjoy. I am sure he would have been thrilled at the interest Connor and Zak took in learning how it works, how Connor became its custodian, how Zak fixed some of its quirks, and how Luke was patiently learning to drive from his younger brother. Ashlee was a huge fan as well, recently learning all the steps involved it starting it up, double clutching to shift, and more.

I am certain there are people who may think this is silly to spend time eulogizing an automobile, but there are others of you who get it and it is for you I share my story.

Goodbye Old Gal… you served us well and you will be forever in our hearts. Thank you for keeping my boy safe as you wheezed your last breath and flattened your tire trying to stop in time. I love you…

P.S. We did take our little overnight getaway; survived a thunderstorm and took two pleasurable paddles in our new-to-us kayak. The water soothed my heart and made it easier to deal with letting go of the last tangible part of my dad’s legacy. We will be camping again soon, hopefully with a more peaceful sendoff next time.