Monday, July 1, 2013

A good day

Music: Tracy Chapman Fast Car remix



It was going to be a good day.  The beige chamois slid gracefully over the faultless hood.  Three coats thick it was; not an imperfection in sight.  A gentle caress done more out of reflex than of need.  The paints solid covering glistened and gleamed almost as brightly as the proud owner’s eyes.  A spotless coat and faultless vinyl interior, Benito knew it was going to be a good day.
His competition would be fierce.  As in most car shows, three Camaros were present.  Two of the Camaro completion, were coated with the glimmer of fresh lacquer and stylized with slide up doors.  The third was a classic light blue ’68 convertible.  A church parking lot where held this magnificent collision between the City of God and the City of Man.  Such is America.  Vehicles ranging from ’39 Ford, a ’69 Impala, and even a ’63 VW Van acted as players in the iconography of American Culture.  Crowds slowly milled about, gawking at the bold display of gleaming chrome set before them.  The casual observer would immediately notice that Benito’s car stood out before they might consider it outstanding, for it was a 1974 AMC Gremlin. 
            Now in the list of American icons the Gremlin held a unique position.  It was the last hope of a dying company defiantly struggling to remain independent.  Though it was one of America’s most fuel efficient models, its awkward carriage and checkered dependability plagued this vehicle throughout its eight year run.  It was a car whose ungainliness could possibly only be appreciated by future generations: if only for purposes of kitsch.   But for its owner, she was beautiful.
The mixed crowds paraded past.  While the muscle cars captivated most of the viewers, Benito did have one guest.  An elderly man, pressed red shirt and black pants stopped to gaze at the engine.  With old eyes that still held the memory of what his body used to be able to do he stared contemplatively at the small engine under the hood.  Benito excitedly engaged the man in conversation, however he was quick to find that the gentleman was more interested in talking about cars of his past than of the 74 Gremlin.  When the man walked away, Benito continued to buff the blameless shine.
Though normally positioned by the car, occasionally Benito made trips to the limited shade provided by a covered walkway.  There he visited his family; a wife and child to be specific.  The wife, holding a crown of brown hair in a state of aware absent-mindedness watched over the child.  The child, strapped into a wheelchair, contained the awkward beauty of one mentally and physically dystrophic.  Her contorted wrists rhythmically beat on the buckle holding her to the chair.  A complaint thumping that seemed to be less of an action of escape and more, just as her fathers actions, a simple neurosis to pass pent up energy.   Her brown mongoloid eyes, so rich, so deep, simmered trust abstractedly.  Her crumpled light blue dress blew listlessly in the breeze.  Her crooked smile breathed life into the faded floral pattern of her dress.  Benito went to them, merely to stand by them, with them, to be one of them again, for in his heart he knew that it was going to be a good day.
Over a Public Address system that had been fluent in leading worship for the teens, the judges began to list off the winners.  Returning to his Gremlin, Benito anxiously listened to the results.  Neurotically he continued the slow circling turn with the chamois.  The prizes began to be announced.  The owners victoriously strode forward to accept their acclaim.  With only three awards were remaining, Benito never lost his hope.  Another named was called, another time it wasn't his.  Now only two slots remained.  Benito quickly glanced at his family.  His wife returned his gaze with a slim smile as she fanned herself with one of the programs.  He then looked into the eyes of his daughter.  In these deep brown pools, he saw, for the briefest of moments what looked like clarity.  A clarity paired with all of the love, and all of the trust that the child could give.  In an eternal millisecond Benito was able to see, to know, how proud she was of him.  Perhaps that is why he was shocked when the judges placed an award in his hand.  He hadn’t heard the announcement of his name.  He was too busy enjoying his true prize found in his child’s eyes.  It was a good day.      

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