If you know me in real life, or even just through the book of faces, you probably already know that I like cars. I always have.
And if you knew my Dad in real life, you know that he also liked cars. He taught me everything I know about cars, pretty much. When I was little, I wanted to be a mechanic when I grew up. I think I've mentioned that in here before. But my Dad didn't want me to be a mechanic. That used to crush my heart. Why didn't he want me to grow up and be like him? We could work together! I could be the bad-ass girl who knows how to work on cars! I wouldn't have to rely on him, or any other man, to fix my car for me!
Oh, well. Being a nurse is kinda like being a mechanic. I get to try to fix broken people, in a way. Keep them running like they should be. Try to figure out what's wrong with them when they're not. I mean, I'm not the one doing the diagnosing (that's a word, right?) but I'm part of the team that tries to make sure the treatment plan is being followed and all that.
Short story long...in the fall of 1980, my Dad (well, both of my parents, actually) bought this certain car. It's a maroon 1978 Lincoln Continental Town Coupe. I was 6 years old when they brought this car home. At first, I was bummed because he traded in the ol' 1971* (don't hold me to that, it might have been a '72) Thunderbird with suicide doors that was dark brown and I renamed it the Batmobile, because that's what it reminded me of. I was totally into Batman when I was little; I don't believe I've ever mentioned that. It was one of the few shows I'd actually watch on TV. Reruns, of course, but the ones with Adam West as Batman. But I didn't care who played Batman; for me, it was all about the car.
So yes, I was bummed that my first favorite car, the Batmobile, was gone, and this big, shiny red fancy thing had taken it's place. It had pillow-like cloth seats and it smelled like a new car, and riding in the back seat just about always made me carsick. Luckily, the back seat is the size of a regular love seat, so I spent a lot of time stretched out on it, trying to sleep off the nausea. Not to mention, it also had teeny-tiny windows in the back that didn't roll down. Nope, my first memories of this car were not pleasant ones. But my Dad loved this car and took the absolute best care of it.
I learned last weekend that it actually was his daily driver at first. He bought it with 26k miles on it and right now it has 55k miles, so it's not as if he never drove it. Just not very often. Mostly he pulled it out of the garage to wash, wax, and detail it, and took it to the shop to change the fluids and the belts and do whatever else kinda maintenance it required. Then drove it on weekends or on vacations once he sold the motorhome. When that wasn't happening, it had a very snug home in his garage. In his, like, 1.5 car garage. And he was a mechanic, so that garage was also full of tool boxes and lots of other stuff. But somehow he was able to fit the Lincoln and whatever his daily driver was at the time in the garage together. Granted, there was only a few inches to spare on every side except the driver's side, but it fit!
That reminds me, there was even a time when the garage had 3 cars in it: the Lincoln, the daily driver of the month, and the VW Baja Bug. But that's a story for another time.
The "joke" in our family has always been that the Lincoln would be mine someday. I never appreciated that until, oh, probably adulthood. When I was 19, I drove a 1979 Lincoln Mark V for a few years. I loved that car! It was light blue with light blue cloth interior, and a sunroof, and man could that tank move! I called it the Land Shark. I even have a picture of my Dad's and my Lincoln parked next to each other somewhere.
Anyway, my Dad last drove the Lincoln about 10 years ago. It's been hiding in it's corner of the garage since then. My Dad was always bugging me to take it, but I never had a place to keep it, really, until we moved out here. (An inside place to keep it, that is.)
Last spring, I think it was, or maybe the fall before that, whenever it was that we first went over there to start cleaning out the garage, we (meaning my hubby and I) decided to see if it still ran. Don't know why it wouldn't, just because it'd been sitting for a while. But you never know. We charged up the battery and as soon as I turned the key, something went POOF! and smoke started rising up from somewhere near the battery. (I couldn't tell exactly where it was coming from, because I was, you know, behind the wheel.) So we aborted that plan and decided that we'd have to have the professionals take a look at it someday.
So, between then and now, hubby and I have been discussing options for having someone go over it and make sure it's road-worthy. All this time, it's still in my parents' names. And, of course, as you already know, my Dad passed away last fall. I really wasn't ready to take the car right away after that. It's just this huge maroon reminder of my Dad, ya know? Well, the hubby and I finally decided that we'd take it to a shop with family ties, so to speak: my cousin's shop in St. Paul.
Another long story short here, but if you know me in real life, you probably maybe know my maiden name, which is also the name of the shop to where we are taking it. And let me add that I actually do not know my cousin who owns this shop. My uncle (Dad's brother) used to own it. My Dad even worked there once upon a time, but I think that was before I was even born. I prayed and prayed and prayed on this decision. I feel like it's one that my Dad would've agreed with. I don't want anyone except family touching this car, even if he's basically a stranger to me. My Dad always had nice, kind things to say about his late brother. And in an "it's a small world, after all" moment, one of our friends from church actually takes his car to this shop, too, and has nothing but great things to say about the service he gets there. This was before he knew I was related. I think that's a huge vote of confidence, because our friend from church lives out here in the boonies like we do, and he'd rather take his car into the cities -- an hour away -- to have his car worked on because he likes and trusts the mechanic that much.
HOWEVER, for some reason I was having a very hard time calling and making that appointment. I think a huge part of that is grief. My taking the Lincoln is a symbolic thing, a way of announcing that my Dad is gone. His beloved Lincoln is my responsibility now. I wish I knew enough about cars to do the work myself; but since I don't, I just want to trust that having a professional who is also a family member is the right thing to do. Hopefully both my Dad and my uncle are sitting there up in heaven, watching this, and nodding in approval.
I just wish I would've done this before he died, for so many reasons. One, so he could see the Lincoln out of the garage and in it's glory again, with me behind the wheel.
And two -- because transferring ownership of a vehicle when one of the persons listed on the title is now deceased is a royal pain in the butt and is the whole reason that right now, at this very moment, the car is not in my name yet!!
But, I digress. My awesomest hubby in the world surprised me last week by calling the shop himself to find out if my cousin would even be interested in going through and tuning up the Lincoln for us, and making all of those arrangements. God, I love this man. My cousin said, yes, he can do it. At that time, we thought it would need to be towed because of the whole POOF! situation.
So, that was last week. The hubby and son and I went over to my mom's house on Saturday to clean up all the stuff around and on the Lincoln (thanks, Dad, for using it as a shelf, even though you put a blanket on it, wtf). We stopped and picked up a new battery on the way, because it would be so much easier to drive it to the shop than to have to have it towed there. The day before that, I finally worked up the courage to ask my mom if I could finally take the car. I don't know why I was so nervous about asking. She doesn't drive so it's not like her keeping it was an option. I guess I was just worried about how she'd do emotionally with the car being gone.
Anywho, we got there and hubby hooked up the new battery, and I grabbed the keys and sat down in the driver's seat, turned the key, and -- NO POOF! Just the sound of the starter trying like hell to do it's thing. It wasn't even trying to turn over at first, but that was more than I'd heard out of it for a very long time, so we kept at it. Tried all the tricks once tries when one wants to convince a car of that era to start when it's been dormant for a while -- IYKYK.
And then, finally -- she roared to life. No, she didn't roar, she slowly purred to life. Oh, my gosh, it was one of the most beautiful sounds I've ever heard. Right up there with hearing my baby boy cry for the first time. She came back to life and it was like she never missed a beat. So smooth! No skipped beats, no threatening to stall out, just back to life like, BAM! Here I am, let's go!
I have that part on video, thanks to my boy. I tried to get video from inside as well, but I was too focused on actually getting it started to catch that precious moment. I even "drove" it -- well, pulled it most of the way out of the garage and then backed it in again. Didn't have to squeeze it back into it's spot this time; it's currently taking up both stalls because we don't need to park any other vehicles in there, anyway. (Except that when I stay at my mom's house I usually park in the garage, but oh well; I guess I'm parking on the street this week!)
She purred like a lioness, and the brakes and tranny performed like they never missed a beat, either. And the tires on that damn thing still look brand new! I don't know when the tires were replaced last, but it couldn't have been that long ago. They did need filling when got there, but they weren't completely flat (as opposed to two of the tires on my Maverick, which decided to go flat over the winter! GRRRRR).
OK, I gotta wrap this up soon. Last year when mom dug the title out of the safe, I noticed that it still had the Ford Motor Company listed as a secured interest. Uh, what? No, it's been paid off for decades. Back then, the bank kept the title until it was paid off, and then sent it to the owner with a lien release afterward. But my mom didn't have any lien release. So I actually contacted the Ford Motor Company and they provided me with a letter confirming that they no longer have an interest in the car. And then this week, when I was looking at the title again, I noticed that there is a signature on the spot of the title where someone is supposed to sign indicating that the secured party's interests have been met. So I might not need that letter, after all. Oh, well.
The plan was going to be that I was going to go to the DMV on Monday and get it transferred into my name, and get insurance on it, so then we could take it to the shop.
Well...I did make it to the DMV with everything I thought I needed; the title with my Mom's signature, my Dad's death certificate, the transfer of title and registration certificate, proof of insurance, an application for collector plates, and my driver's license. It's a small DMV office that we have here, and actually waiting for half an hour for my turn wasn't bad. Then, when I got up to the window, the very nice lady working there (that's not sarcasm -- she was very nice) told me I was missing a form. My mom needs to sign a form stating that she is my Dad's surviving spouse and that the car isn't subject to probate. And it has to be notarized, so I can't sign for her.
So! We wait a little longer. I've waited this long, what's a few more days?! As it turns out, my cousin was too busy at the shop to get the car in this week, anyway. So it works out. I found a place where I can take my mom (when I stay there this week) to get the form notarized, and then we should be good to go.
I can't wait to drive that beast, for real. It's not going to be my daily driver, of course, but there are usually car shows around here every weekend and you bet your sweet bottom we will be at as many of them as we can this summer!
Anyway, that's all I have time for right now. TTYL!