The Red Dude is gone. I’ve tried to think of a catchy nickname for my new vehicle but it’s hard to match Dad’s wit for nicknames. “Silver Fox” is all I’ve come up with and though appropriate it’s not as catchy, not as meaningful, maybe because there’s no history attached to it. Oh sigh.
I did the car deal two days ago and haven’t been in the Silver Fox since driving her home from the dealership if that’s any indication of waned enthusiasm. Hopefully I will appreciate her more as I have occasion to discover all of her conveniences and perky pleasures. There is an underlying sadness in knowing when I walk outside I won’t see The Red Dude. I pray God blesses me with as much lighthearted history and dependability as the good old Red Dude did. Like a lost love or favorite song, he will always live in my heart and in my head.
Today’s vehicles are overwhelming to someone who’s driven a 16-year old pickup truck for the last few years and few others with advanced technology before that. The Red Dude had no luxuries or bells & whistles, only hand cranks for the windows and keys to open her doors. I suppose in time I’ll come to be comfortable in the Silver Fox. I’ve had an iPhone for two years and only recently learned how to enjoy it’s basic features, like listening to music with ear buds, go figure. I’m not eager to embrace today’s technology and, honestly, find it complicates life as much as it adds convenience to it; and that it once-removes us from sensing pleasures of the real world that thrives around us every day.
The Red Dude was the last meaningful possession that tied me to the only life I knew, a life gone with the passing of it, a Father who passed before it did and all that came to pass before to even lead me to it in the first place. The Red Dude was the last thing at all, really, of the gooey cacoon I’ve been fighting every day to emerge from. Perhaps I should be grateful to have all of the reminders of that miserable life-era finally behind me, for it to be said & done, put away, with nothing but fresh new horizons ahead. Sometimes I questioned if I’d ever get there, errr, here.
It’s funny but as it goes with any life change, the smallest adjustments are something to work through. Where I live the trash has to go to a compacter and my place is somewhat removed. Before I just dropped the trash bag in the bed of the old Red Dude and took off. Now I have this issue of where to put it in a new car … the trunk or back floorboard or sauntering along with it balancing ever-so-gingerly on the trunk hood as so many others here do (no way). Not like that’s any big problem, really, it’s just a new adjustment, one of the new fangled “complications.”
Then there’s public parking. In The Red Dude I parked anywhere, not wanting door dings of course but if they occurred not being overly annoyed by them. Of course that’s all changed. Trips to the grocery store or mall will be a different experience, a more concerning & conscious one, a more “complicated” one.
Oh, how we complicate our lives in thinking we’re bettering them. I’ve always preferred peace of mind to flashy living … yet here I am.