Grandpa’s Car

“I consider the days of old, the years long ago.” Psalm 77:5 ESV

Growing up in the country as I did, there were no driver’s education classes at school or private driving schools where I could learn to drive. Being the sixth child in my family, my dad was already an expert at teaching his children the finer points of learning to drive. Before Daddy could take me out on the road to practice driving in our only vehicle—a standard-shift Chevrolet pickup truck, he taught me the “H” method of how to shift the gears. In some ways, it must have been like a classroom course. After I had taken the necessary first steps, we finally got on the road. I don’t remember Daddy ever being impatient with me during my driver’s training, but I do remember him telling me that I learned to drive quicker than any of the other five siblings before me. Many years later, I still wear his compliment as a badge of honor, and my heart smiles that I have never forgotten Daddy’s words of affirmation.

My dad’s excellent teaching skills paid off when I obtained my driver’s license at age sixteen. Like all teenagers, I was beyond excited to have passed the written and driving portions of the test. In the weeks that followed, I did not drive much. Living in the country as I did, there weren’t many occasions to practice driving. We didn’t go places that much. My siblings and I caught a bus to school, and we went to church every Sunday, but that was about it. Since Mother had never learned to drive, the necessary driving was done by Daddy when we children were at school. But my luck was about to change. 

A few months after getting my driver’s license, Grandpa McDaniel visited us in his brand-new white 1964 Ford Falcon Ranchero. I thought it was the neatest little car, resembling a pickup truck. My dad was not impressed, though, as he had been a Chevrolet man all his life and thought nothing good ever came from the Ford Motor Company. That day, Grandpa asked my parents to let me drive him to Zwolle, LA, where his wife, Ruthie, was in the hospital. Knowing that Grandpa was at that time 79 years old, my parents didn’t hesitate to give me permission to drive him where he needed to go.

The day Grandpa and I set out, with me behind the wheel of his beautiful car, was a thrill I can still feel. I was grateful for my parents’ trust as I made the two-hour round-trip drive to Louisiana. Our journey was a joy, with the open country roads and the unique pleasure of driving Grandpa’s car. The feeling of the steering wheel under my hands, the sound of the engine, and the wind in my hair are memories I will always treasure.

This memory resurfaced a few weeks ago as my husband and I drove on IH-35 between San Antonio and Austin. To my surprise and delight, we found ourselves driving alongside a white 1964 Ford Falcon Ranchero, just like Grandpa’s. I couldn’t contain my excitement and quickly snapped the picture above on my iPhone. That day, memories of long ago thrilled my heart. Even though I realize that these memories may not interest everyone, they will always hold a special place in my heart and perhaps in the hearts of my young family members in future years as they read this account.

God is so good at giving us memories where we can remember key moments with our long-departed loved ones. Since I seldom interacted with my dad on a deep level, remembering his patience with me and his complimenting my driving skills is a blessing. My grandpa was always happy to see us when we visited him or when he visited us. Still, he was not involved in our childhood to any extent, and certainly nothing even close to the current relationship I have with my grandchildren and great-grandchildren. Life was different back then. Many families, although close, were not as affectionate and involved in their children’s and grandchildren’s lives. Hard work was usually the order of the day, with little time and energy left for individual relationships. Or at least this was my experience.

Although this little story differs somewhat from my usual posts, I hope we can still take something constructive and applicable from these shared memories. For me, reliving this story is all about meaningful relationships among family members. Although these memories have stuck with me for a lifetime, they were not big things but ordinary moments spent with two family members I didn’t experience much quality time with.

I hope that today, we will all resolve to make more lasting memories with our family members so that one day, long after we are gone, they will look back on special times with their parents, grandparents, and great-grandparents. I pray these memories will be implanted in their hearts so they will see how deeply loved they were.

Because God is the creator of the family, I will always remain thankful for His love and care for me and my family. He is so good at helping us in our relationships with one another as we travel down this road called life. He has a plan for us all, and He is with us each step of the way.

Prayer: Dear Heavenly Father, You are so good at bringing memories from long ago that strengthen our hearts and minds. Thank You for taking us through each season of our lives and for helping us develop meaningful relationships with our family members and others. Give us Your wisdom as we walk side by side, supporting not only each step we take but also the steps they take. I pray this in the name of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. Amen.