Valiant she sits in the shade of a tree late afternoon, feeling like a rusty old relic, waiting for her man... She’s sitting silently alone. Her thoughts mindful of the days when she sparkled, and was the apple of his eye. Now she was getting long in the tooth, a little worn and tired, and she now took delight in sitting in quiet repose, waiting. Yes she’s a relic alright, deflecting barbs, and taunts. Waiting for the day she’s no longer able to sit and watch those around. She sees their pitying eyes; she can hear those who mutter about her sitting so brazenly, as if she should be hidden from view. Cruel taunts that leave her in a state of sadness and remorse. She knows that she must age gracefully, accept what she is, and enjoy the remaining years of her existence taking it easy. It isn’t her fault she can no longer fire up the way she used too, or have the drive that made people admire her. It had been a while since she cared what people thought of her. She no longer cared who looked her way. No longer cared about the perfect body she once was so proud of. Nor did she care about the perfume that she once wore that made her desirable. She had to admit she had given up on trying to impress anyone. Her man still loved her despite her looks and age, and in truth she had began to smell a little musty.... Oh well, who really cared? She knew she had regular showers, and washes, occasional sprayings of fragranced aroma. She no longer cared that her engine was fast fading, or that she no longer had the power, nor momentum to move forward in life. She had grown content to sit at home, soaking up the sun, and appreciating the love of her man of an evening. No she was content to be what she was, and wasn’t going anywhere.
Another day was closing in, lately they seemed to come and go quite rapidly, and she was feeling her age. She felt a hint of loneliness as she thought of her past exploits. She thought of her man and the friend they had, some now gone to the grave. No longer was there romance, nor did she engage in sexual gratification, although there was still strong feelings and outward affection shared. It has been a long time since she shared a smoke with her man, for he had given up the habit; She no longer had to worry about those dirty ashtrays, overflowing with butts, with the occasional one discarded on the floor. No that was a thing of the past. They had given up on the thrill seeking life of youth, where they enjoyed the attention. She even got photographed, and in some instances, caught by the police... Her man even had to defend her in court. She had given up on that side of her life. She no longer cared for the limelight, or adventure.
She sat and waited some more in her thoughts. She knew that her man would come out and join her soon. It was his ritual. He’d step outside the caravan with his cup of hot coffee; his hands would cup the mug as if to purposely keep them warm. He would look at her with a look of adoration and appreciation. You’d even spot a bit of regret if you looked closely at his eyes, for they would get moist, as if tears were forming. He often muttered a remembered thought... A tale of his adventures... A fond memory. Not loud enough to draw the attention of others, but soft enough to share his thoughts with her. She felt warmth in these special moments. She remembered those times too with fondness. He set his empty cup down, and took his hand and caressed her skin, she was feeling a little cold in the shade, but he didn’t mind. He let his hand wander, and she let him, for his warmth was soothing.
Her man stepped away, looked admiringly at her, took out his keys from his pocket, walked to the driver’s door and opened it. He got in behind the steering wheel, and turned the ignition key slightly. He wasn’t going anywhere, she knew that. He turned on the radio and patted the steering wheel in tune with the music. Occasionally he would pat the seat as well. With his door still open, he would lay slightly backward in a relaxed recline, close his eyes and drift away in his thoughts.
“Hey Jack” the neighbour called from his yard, in front of the adjacent caravan, a few feet away. Not bothered that he may disturb his friend in quiet repose.
“When you gonna scrap that heap of junk?” his neighbour asked with a grin, already knowing what the reply would be.
“Never!” Jack said abruptly
“Well listen ol’ mate, you can’t take the relic with you!”
“No, I can’t, but she sure aint going to Chrysler heaven before me!” he said with a hint of indignation.
Jack turned off the interior light, patted the seat, whispered “It’s okay Ol’ girl, you’re not going anywhere.”
“Well Jack, I’m off to the club, you want to join me? His neighbour asked.
“Not tonight Bob.”
Jack closed his eyes and drifted back in his mind. He pictured the long road ahead, the flashing white centre lines that he recalled in his travels. He smiled at the memories etched on his brow. One hand was caressing the weathered seat, while the other was wrapped tightly around the steering wheel. He didn’t care that his beloved car could no longer take him to those places. He was just happy to spend the time together, and to think of those times they shared. He couldn’t hide the way he felt. She had been his dream. He managed to find the way to obtain her, through hard work and grit. Since then, she had not let him down.
Both were now old and on the rough side, but he was proud of their achievements. He was happy that after all the years together; she still was there ready to embrace him... They no longer could venture onto the roadways, for his health had put a stop to that. In his mind however he was able to travel the long highways, and he was constantly enjoying the soft breezed that blew in the window of a late afternoon. The satisfaction he got from his mind travels, were clearly evident by the smile reflected through his rear vision mirror, to anyone who happened to pass by.
He was angered by anyone’s suggestion that his beloved car should be scrapped, for she meant more to him than life itself. He knew within himself that without her, he would have died long ago, probably in the wake of his wife’s death few years back. He may not have youth on his side any longer, but with his memories he could relive them, and with his old, worn, weathered, car, he could visit them often. He was content in his life he reflected as he caressed the seat once more with his weathered, frail hand, and smiled.
He was angered by anyone’s suggestion that his beloved car should be scrapped, for she meant more to him than life itself. He knew within himself that without her, he would have died long ago, probably in the wake of his wife’s death few years back. He may not have youth on his side any longer, but with his memories he could relive them, and with his old, worn, weathered, car, he could visit them often. He was content in his life he reflected as he caressed the seat once more with his weathered, frail hand, and smiled.