It is amazing how many people go through life and never experience the adrenaline rush that comes with doing something they always wanted to do. Years ago, before knee injuries stopped me, I use to race cars on dirt ovals. I loved the feel of the speed, and the excitement of the contest. I also built stret cars. My pride and enjoy was a '75 Pontiac Grand Prix. With a bored over 400 engine, and turbohydramatic transmission, 150mph was nothing for a car as heavy as that one.
Where did my love for speed and excitememt come from? From my father. Years ago, after his stint in the Army, he took a job at a local garage. Back then, names like Bobby and Donnie Allison, Neil Bonnet, and Red Farmer were common at many round tracks in the South. My dad was one of those who knew the names, and also knew the sport they enjoyed. In his spare time, he was busy building engines for the local drives that had dreams of some day having their names as well known as the guys in the Alabama Gang.
My dad's passion with speed was not confined to the track. He had his share of street cars. The first two I remember were a '58 MGB Roadster, and a '58 Pontiac. By the time I was 7, he was beginning to teach me what he could about cars. Together, we would build several over the years. Our last major project was a '64 Mercury Comet with a 289. It was a 4-door, so instead of makingit look like a hot rod, we made what many into speed call a sleeper. Even though it was metallic blue, for the most part it looked, and sounded, like a car your grandparents would drive. Under the hood though, was enough power to do the trick.
In 1991, my dad was diagnosed with cancer. We were told he had maybe 6 months to live. All his life, he had wanted to learn to sail. We finally found a day sailer in need of repairs, got her fixed up, and a neghbor taught him how to sail. Many a Spring and Summer day was spent onthe lake with that boat, running it with the wind, then in the afternoon, tacking her back towards the marina. Something about that boat must have agreed with my father, because six months went by, and he was still with us. After much chemo and radiation, we were told there was no trace of cancer.
Late that summer, together, we overhauled an old Honda Rebel. We both always enjoyed riding motorcycles, and this was one that we could ride and relax with. That Fall though, we were told the cancer was back, and that this time there was nothing that could be done. As December came, my dad started getting weaker. A week before Christmas, on a Saturday morning, my mom called to see if my dad had come over to my house. When I told her "No", she started getting worried. He had left a couple of hours before on the motorcycle. She did not feel he had the strength to handle it,but did not try stop him. I told her not to worry, that he was doing something he enjoyed, and to allow him the luxury of doing it while he still could. A few hours later, he returned all safe and sound, but obviously weakened. He had done like he did every Christmas, and made the rounds of old friends homes, sharing the good old days.
That would be his last motorcycle ride. As the New Yeat came, his condition got worse. By late January, he was taking small doses of morphine to deal with the pain. In March, he went to the hospital for the last time. I went to see him as much as I could those last two weeks. The hospital being only two blocks from my job meant I could spend lunch with him, and see him after work. Before the morphine got the better of him, he told me one afternoon that I had a full life still ahead of me, and to live it to the fullest.
A few days later, he died. After 18 months of fighting, all the fight was gone. Before he died though, he did the things he had always wanted to do. He lived his life to the fullest. After his death, I sold the motorcycle, and my mom sold the sail boat. I kept his old truck though, one of the last vehicles we worked on together. I still drive it all the time. Everytime I have to work on it, I can feel him looking over my shoulder making sure I am doing it right.
Don't let life pass you by, wishing you had done the things you always wanted to do. Live it, and live it to the fullest.
You can join Unsolved Mysteries and post your own mysteries or
interesting stories for the world to read and respond to Click hereScroll all the way down to read replies.Show all stories by Author:  47296 ( Click here )
Spring is coming |
