Lola is here visiting. I showed her a black and white photo of me on the hood of her dad's 1948 Oldsmobile. I'm wearing shorts and a shirt, no shoes, and I'm buffing the car, finishing the wash job we did. Wayne's sister Kate is on the very top of the car. She's towel-drying the windshield.
This is the car Wayne's friend Phil drove without oil in it on that over-the-speed-limit and inspite-of-Wayne's-cautioning wild drive down from Lone Pine after their Mt. Whitney climb. Why a guy wouldn't stop and add oil I don't know. That drive burned up the engine. Hmph.
Did Wayne persuade us to do this work for him? I don't remember, but I doubt it. I loved him, and Kate loved him, so we were willing workers, most likely. Proud of the car and happy for him to have it, even though it was nearly ten years old when he got it. Dark green, very dark green.
After the Oldsmobile was gone, he got a black 1951 Chrysler, bigger, heavier car, a four-door sedan.
So I explained much of this to Lola as we stood in front of the photo today. Her response, as she pointed to me in the picture, "Oh, so that's where we get our legs."
2 comments:
Don't we get to see the picture, too?
It's in a multiple shot frame on my wall. Come on over.
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