Jerry Underwood was opening his fifth beer in thirty minutes. Despite having always heard one cannot find any wisdom in the bottom of a bottle, Jerry was determined to find out for himself. He had been anticipating–and dreading–most events of the day. Wrapping his brain around those unexpected and unpredictable ancillary events was the hard part.
Gazing at the 1986 Lincoln Town Car parked in his driveway only exacerbated his cornucopia of emotions. Doing so found him becoming that much thirstier.
At age 43, Jerry was the only one of the three siblings to stay near their parents. The other two, twelve and fourteen years older than he, had left for other pastures whereas he had stayed close to home . As Jerry’s father Isaac was now 87, all the unsavory tasks involved with aging parents now fell onto Jerry’s lap.
Isaac had been in a few minor scrapes in his Ford pickup, all involving either the back wall or the doors of his garage. After a very heated discussion, Isaac had agreed to sell the pickup and keep his Lincoln. Jerry had used this approach as a ruse to keep his father from driving, hoping Isaac wouldn’t want to jeopardize the condition of his cherished eleven year-old Lincoln. It had mostly worked.
Jerry had agreed to accompany his father to get his driver’s license renewed. Since Isaac was older than 85, state law dictated an eye-exam as part of receiving his license. As Jerry had feared, Isaac failed the eye-exam lending credibility to his suspicion cataracts were entering the picture.
As they were getting back into the Lincoln, Isaac exploded when Jerry hit the starter. “Pure bullshit! I can see; I’ve been driving for seventy-five years. They make the damn signs on that test so small and dim nobody can see them! They don’t want people driving. I see just fine. They said if my eye-doctor signed off I could get my license renewed; by God, I’m going to call him as soon as we get home. I’m not taking their crap, I can drive just fine.”
Jerry calmly replied, “Dad, I know you are mad. Let’s get some lunch and talk about it back at your house.”
At lunch, Jerry was surprised Isaac had not yet steered the conversation in that direction. Jerry knew the rub was that his father knew him better than he knew his father. Isaac had been unable to read the menu to order; as they were finishing their food, he became introspective.
“Sonny Boy, it’s only fair to warn you: Getting old sucks. Yes, I’m eighty-seven and I have accepted that I am eighty-seven. However, being eighty-seven sneaks up on you. The other morning when I was shaving, I looked in the mirror and it startled me. ‘Who is this old man?’ I asked myself. I wasn’t exactly expecting to see a thirty year-old in the mirror, but seeing all the wrinkles on my face is disturbing. I’m not vain; I’ve earned every one of them.
“I’ve been thinking a lot lately and have realized I’ve never told you kids a whole lot about me. Well, your older brother and sister don’t give a tinker’s damn about me anymore, but you do. Your coming along when I was forty-four meant you missed out on a lot, but you helped keep me young a long time. I guess this whole driver’s license ordeal is a reminder I’m no longer as young as I thought.”
Jerry was correct; he knew his father but not nearly as well as his father knew him. This conversation was quickly going in a direction Jerry was having trouble predicting.
“Sonny, I was born in 1910; I’ve been driving since 1922. The first car I drove was your grandfather’s Model T. The first car I bought was a 1929 Nash when I was twenty-four years old. I paid $30 for that car. Sonny, that made me so happy I thought I could conquer the world, but it only lasted a short while. That was the car my wife was driving when she was killed in that wreck.”
Upon hearing this, Jerry was dumbfounded. “Dad, I never knew you were married before. Why didn’t I know?”
“Do you like revisiting the horrors in your life? Would you tell your kids about a previous wife? Besides, has not knowing affected you in any way?”
Jerry felt he was being subjected to the sporadic “You-are-the-youngest-child-what-the-hell-could-you-know?” mindset.
“Anyway, yes, I was married and we had just learned she was pregnant when the wreck happened.” Isaac’s voice cracked upon saying this. He quickly regained most of his composure.
“Jerry, let me tell you something,”–Jerry knew it was important if his father was calling him by his first name–“life is like a novel, with one chapter leading into the next. Sometimes the chapters are pretty distinct, sometimes they aren’t. Either way you need to enjoy them and not wish away for the next one. You even need to savor the shitty ones so you can better appreciate the good times. Roll with the punches when it’s lousy and hope things don’t get worse. When it’s good, do everything to make the most of it. Your kids are teenagers now, so enjoy them while they are at home. One day they will be gone and you’ll be sitting in a restaurant with your grown son trying to avoid the obvious subject that needs to be discussed.”
Looking at his father, Jerry’s left eyebrow lifted, giving away his intrigue.
“Sonny, I’m not blind. You’re sitting there wondering what your old man is about to say. You have completely avoided saying anything about my eye-exam so I will say something about it: I will let my license lapse until I can get my eyes figured out. Do you really think I’m going to risk killing somebody’s mother? It was an old man who couldn’t see shit that killed my wife and baby. Do you think I would risk putting another man through the hell I went through?
“Now, you drive me home and take the Lincoln back to your house. Drive it a little for me so it stays limber. Hell, you may finally admit you like it more than that damn little Honyo, Toyda, or whatever the hell that little tin can you drive is.”
After dropping his father off, Jerry visited the drive-through liquor market for a couple of twelve-packs. He needed it.
Pulling into his driveway, Jerry’s wife Patricia met him at the door. She seemed quite emotional, but it was hard for Jerry to determine if it was positive or negative emotions. Jerry had had enough emotional drama for one day.
“Hi, Jerry! I hope your day with your father was pleasant–oh, I have news you’ll want to hear! Would you believe it? I’m pregnant–we’re having a baby!”
Thinking about it all again, Jerry opened another beer.
“The worst thing about getting old? Remembering when you was young.”
~Alvin Straight
Great read.
I always enjoy reading your Curbside Fiction. This comes about a week or two after a nearly identical silver and black box Town Car came across my path. It was owned by the father of the person I know, a father who no longer drives. Literal CC effect? Or just Literary?
I think I felt a hint of a tear, welling up as the story reached its climax.
Damn, what a (fictional) story.
Talk about CC effect. My life from 2007 to 2013. Change the car to a 93 Le Sabre, add ten years to my age. Change his age to 34 when I was born. Remove pregnant and insert private plane crash with his best ‘friend’ while he was in the Army. And his finding the wreck weeks later with her clothing removed. About the only other difference was my Dad was still convinced he was OK to drive. Jason, you just sent chills through my spine. Best writeup ever.
I will make one of my boys read it. The other one is working on a chapter of his own.
A good story. I don’t remember exactly when my dad quite driving, but my mother did take over at some point I think, before he died. Then she decided on her own that she shouldn’t drive into the city, but did still drive into the nearer small town. Eventually she did quit altogether. I took her where she needed to go for a number of years. Then she decided that I could do most of her shopping for her, so mostly she went to doctors appointments after that.
Very nice.
Thanks
Well written…thanks
Eighty five and I see perfectly fine. I can’t count how many times I have heard that in my office when they bring in a DMV vision form to be filled out. Then I get to tell them that they really do need a correction for driving as they are not 45 years old anymore. At that point they realize their eyes, like them, are older. Maybe they can be helped by cataract surgery, if that is the case, or maybe not if it is macular degeneration.
Now would you let him drive if he had passed the vision test with 20/30 vision and was 93 years old? I have two in my office who are exactly that plus sharp as a tack.
The part where Issac opened up was nice. My father, now 88, has recently started to tell a little more each time I see him regarding his WWII combat service in the Pacific. Now one gets the bad, along with the good, the mundane and the boring.
People are like cars; not all of them age at the same rate and it reaches the point where its very situational. And very volatile.
Two of my three living grandparents are over 90 and it is very touchy when discussing their eyesight and hearing. One can still drive as well as he ever could, but there is that narrow void in the center of his vision from macular degeneration. The touchiness of their condition helped inspire this, as did a recent conversation with an 83 year old a/c technician who looks to be in his late 60s.
Oh, it is very touchy. When I ask patients to rate blindness, stroke and heart attack it is blindness that takes first place. They may survive the stroke, they may survive a mild heart attack but if they were blind then many feel that is the end. Especially traumatic when much of their older years are sedentary and involve reading, driving and therefore independence.
Beautiful piece. Every sentence makes me want to keep reading!
Nice work, kid. Keep at it.
+1
And I didn’t expect that ending. Nice work, well done
Really appreciate the enjoy where you at in life part.
My Dad is almost 80 and could pass for 65. But, his wife is suddenly in the driver’s seat most of the time. Worry.
Back in the late-Eighties, the State of Iowa attempted to identify its oldest, licensed drivers. As reported in the DesMoines Register (with photos) there proved to be TWO both age #103! Not from the same towns. She used a walker to get to&from her car and was limited licensed: Only days and only within her small town. He looked to be maybe only eighty or so. He also was limited licensed: Only days, but otherwise anywhere within the State. Have often wondered how long either of the pair remained licensed&driving? As I remember, the accompanying photos documented that both drove then approximately two decades old Chevrolet sedans.
My own Father–#91 earlier this year–recently had his health crater which has stopped his driving. His last time behind the wheel was his drive to his local hospital’s urgent care service. When he parked in its lot he never could have known his years behind the wheel ended when he turned the ignition key to his Cadillac to off. His years that started with his driving to school across town at age thirteen, driving the Burma Road during WW2, driving in all the Lower Forty-Eight as an adult.
This was an excellent story. It caught the reality that in our American Century the loss of the ability to drive represents such a great loss of personal independence&identity. Thank you for it.
[Across the street the ~seventy-eight year old father appears to enjoy a wonderful relationship with his ~twelve year old son (started seventh grade this fall) and younger daughter. Old men can make great&successful fathers! Whatever the wheels driven.]
Absolutely great read.
A great read thank you.
. Excellent read! …..Jason ….
Thank you, I enjoyed the story. I’m pushing that kind of age myself, but thankfully my vision’s still good – well, as good as it’s ever been with myopia all my life. I sometimes wonder how it will go if I have to give up driving at some point. I don’t want to go the way of my father, whose driving career ended after a couple of minor off-road excursions when he rear-ended a Town Car with his VW Squareback.
Dennis Davis, you mention that old men can make successful fathers; I know that’s true in that my one uncle and aunt raised their two granddaughters, and they both said that the experience had kept them young. They certainly had a different outlook on life than their sisters and brothers.
Great story.
Am I the only one who noticed that the Lincoln’s parking space is #86, the year of the car? Love it.
I think I will settle in Portland when I can no longer drive. I’m already used to the Tri-Met system here. I had my first cataract surgery at 48. I did see a lot better after that.
What a wonderful story! So poignant and touching. And the narrative takes twists and turns. I hope to see more stories from you in the future!
Great story Jason, I know you were on the fence about this writeup but it turned out great. My own grandfather gave up driving due to bad eyes shortly after his brand-new 1987 Continental was delivered, but he accepted it. My grandmother drove him to the law firm after that–in HIS car, of course. 🙂
Beautifully crafted Jason
I’ve been waiting for the right quiet moment to properly read this; that didn’t happen until now, but it was worth the wait. Well wrought!