Memories Pt. 25

late winter early spring, on the highway near Belleville.

We were driving to visit your father. It was cold. Everything had thawed and refrozen. Your little green car always had problems with the heater. It was either inferno or arctic. You liked inferno. It hurt my eyes.

My hand was in your lap. It always seemed to end up there when you drove. You are such a good driver. Given the right opportunity you could have gone far. Indy or Daytona.

Laid across your thigh just above your knee. It wrapped around clutching the soft skin of your inner thigh. I loved how it felt on my hand and in my heart. The distance from seat to seat, over the brake and gearbox, seemed farther than most of our roadtrips. I couldn't help myself. I had to remain connected. Plus the way you moved those glorious legs as you drove made it so much more worthwhile.

Just outside Belleville, on a cold winter's night, relaxed, enjoying our music, heart by way of hand connected to you, this beautiful wonderful woman, that, with a thunderous thunk, the transmission fell out of your car.

We sat there. You tried the the car of couple of times, but it wouldn't take the gear. Eventually, you gave up and called CAA.

Waiting for the tow truck, it started to get cold. I made a couple of jokes and probably suggested something to keep us warm. You laughed at me as you always did when I suggested such things. It was a wonderful laugh and look. A look that said, stop being silly, you cute boy, that will never happen, but if you play your cards right we'll see later. I love that look.

We sat there in the dark, before he came and picked us up, and made us sit up front with him. Your coverage didn't get us far, just to the rest stop on the highway, but you had a plan. You always had a plan.

We called your father. It was late, but you knew he'd come. He would fix it.

Sitting in the McDonalds we both started doing work. It was going to be a long wait so why not.

That's how he found us, laptops open sitting close together, waiting. And he had Ann in tow.

Out we went to the car, to which he tied a stout rope and tied the other end to his car. Is he nuts, I thought.

'I'll tow you to the hanger', he said. He owns a plane so he has a hanger. It was only 60 km away at night in winter on country roads.

'You'll have to work the brakes so we don't crash", he told you. 'But don't stop too fast'

We got in the car, I could see you were scared, but you always trust your father. And you should, he is remarkable, like you.

Off we went.

Dark and winding roads, frost and fear. Light touches on the brakes, many little accidents that never seemed to happen. You stayed so focused. I was pretrified, but you never lost your cool.

We made it eventually, but not without a few minor mishaps. Nothing a tractor and man possessed couldn't solve.

We seemed to finally make it to your family home at three or four in the morning, all of us exhausted and cold, especially Ann.

Snuggling up together in your bed, trying to keep warm as we waited for the heat to kick in, I decided there and then I was going to be that strong for you, to solve your problems, to be the one that you called when you were in trouble. I didn't know how, but I was going to be that much better.

For you.