Sarah has talked about getting her own car since well before she had her learner's permit. My response is always, "We're a household of three, with two cars, and neither parent works away from home; we don't need three cars." Well, as usual, Sarah, and the universe, found a way.
My dear Uncle Bill loved Volkswagen Beetles. I remember riding in his baby-blue bug when I was a small child (in the far back cubby, of all places). For the last decade or so of his life, he drove a yellow 2012 model dubbed "Sunshine."
After he died in February, and for a good while before that, the car sat in the garage unused. A couple of months ago, his partner, Jane, suggested giving it to us for Sarah. So generous of her! After a little research into its safety features, we gratefully accepted her offer but didn't tell Sarah because we hadn't yet worked out the details.
Soon after, Sarah told me she and her friends had been talking about what kinds of cars suited them. One of the boys told her she belonged in a Beetle. She was shocked and couldn't figure out why he thought that. She fancied herself more of a Honda or Toyota driver.
When we told her the plan a few weeks later, she seemed more shocked than enthusiastic (not the response we were looking for). It took a while for her to embrace the idea.
Meanwhile, Jane was concerned about the car's condition after sitting for so long. She paid a mechanic to pick it up on a flatbed truck, take it to his garage, and do a thorough check of the battery, fluids, tires, etc. It was deemed road-worthy.
In mid-November, we drove to Uncle Bill and Jane's house, just north of New Haven. It was the first time we'd seen Jane since Uncle Bill died. We had a nice visit, including a lunch of New Haven-style pizza and cookies.
Before even seeing the Beetle, we loaded 17 oil paintings by my great-grandmother into the back of the truck. Uncle Bill left them to me and my four cousins, most of whom live in Massachusetts, so it made sense for us to bring them home for distribution.
Then it was time for the big reveal. Up went the garage door, and there she was: Sunshine, looking radiant (sorry, I couldn't resist). Sarah and I set to exploring the interior and its fine German design. Uncle Bill had replaced the factory stereo with one trimmed in lights that continuously change color. And there was an unopened box of red wine in the back that had been there for who-knows-how-long.
I drove the Beetle home, with Sarah riding shotgun. She tried to figure out how to work the radio, which had a mind of its own. It kept switching to the same, mysterious song, right in the middle of another. We discovered days later that Uncle Bill had left a CD by his all-time favorite, Teresa Brewer, in the stereo, and that's what we were hearing.
Don followed in the pickup, and just south of Hartford, where the freeway is multiple lanes across, he pulled up beside us and made the "call me" sign. Sarah dialed him up, and he told us the entire headlight assembly on the passenger's side was hanging by its wires. We pulled into the breakdown lane, and he was able to pop it back into place, without any of us getting killed, though I don't know how.
The rest of the trip was uneventful. I dropped Sarah off at her friend's house for the night and drove home via the back roads that Uncle Bill liked to toodle around on.
The Beetle is parked beside the driveway, attracting the attention of all the neighbors. Uncle Bill had been in a fender-bender that left lots of white paint and a small dent above the passenger front wheel. With considerable elbow grease, I got most of the paint off, and it's hardly noticeable.
I hope Sarah and Sunshine will have many safe adventures together. I'm sure Uncle Bill will be watching over them.
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