Following Mr. Macartney's lead, I have a similar tale (and quite fortunately
the subject matter is relevant to each of the lists this is going to)...
A little background so the story makes some sense, during the past five or
so summers and various holidays I work at a small local British car shop.
We often get people in who wish to sell their cars to us, or for us to sell
it for them. Most of the times the ordeal isn't emotional, and there are no
stories behind it. But this gentlemen was special.
This gentlemen, a fellow by the name of George Kerr, wanted to sell his 1978
Spitfire. It was a rather lovely original car, in very good condition. He
had been the only owner since he purchased it new, and a few years previous
he had the body re-painted as original. As he chats I'm looking at the car
noting a really ugly whiteish stain on the passenger's door, where an
auxillary mirror would be mounted. There were a few other very minor things
wrong, like a stuck seat track, but other than that... a very nice spitfire.
He had come for an estimate on how much the car was worth before he sold it,
and wanted it detailed - so it was going to stay with us for the next day or
two until one of our shop hands had the time to do that job. I took down
his information and some notes about the car and told him I'd have someone
call back as soon as it was ready. As he had no way of getting home, I made
sure that one of the shop hands would be able to take him back when he was
ready - as I couldn't leave my post. As he was exitting the showroom he
burst into tears. I asked him if there was something the matter, and he
began to unviel the long history and memories of the car.
Well that whiteish stain on the drivers door happened to be from his dog,
which was his "co-pilot" ever since the time he bought the car. He only
drove the Spitfire with his dog, and the past weekend he had to put his dog
to sleep. This he admitted was the reason for selling the car, he could not
bear to drive the Spitfire without his dog, who always had his head resting
(and drooling) right above that suspect spot!
He became even more emotional, and when I asked if there was anything I
could do for a second time, he guestured no and that he was only crying
because it was about two months previous that his only son had passed away.
(His wife had also passed on a few years previous) And now that he had to
get rid of the car to gain some form of closure from all those past events.
Eventually he calmed down when the subject matter changed, and we ended up
conversing for a good twenty minutes. In fact, I learned a great deal about
Mr. Kerr. He had worked for Mobil Oil Co., as a chemical engineer, and had
been instrumental in developing Mobil1; quoting Mr. Kerr "my car has only
had Mobil oil since the day it was new, changed every 2500 miles!" He began
recalling old stories that he had of Mobil, and that on some Fridays he felt
guilty taking a paycheck because he didn't consider his work to be work, he
found it fun!
Finally, I bid Mr. Kerr farewell and fetched someone to give him a lift
home. When the person who drove him home returned to work, I was very
disturbed to hear him tell me about how much of an old whiney person Mr.
Kerr was.
I look up to Mr. Kerr, and thank him for what he shared with me that day. I
kept his phone number, and when I return home for the holidays I intend on
giving him a call and catching up... perhaps he too would enjoy one more
ride in a Triumph.
Cheers,
--
Kai M. Radicke -- kradick1@ic3.ithaca.edu
'74 Triumph TR6 -- http://www.pil.net/~felix
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