It was faded blue with a white top. What I remember most are trips
out West taken most every summer. That car took us to Yellowstone,
Grand Tetons, Bryce’s Canyon, Wind Rivers and to New England
for the Presidential Range in New Hampshire. Dad built storage boxes
to fit in the back to carry all our camping gear: tent, sleeping bags, utensils.
My brother and I sat in the back doing the usual brother/sister stuff:
“Mom, he’s on my side of the seat!” and “When will we get there?”
Dad took care of that car: changed the oil, checked the timing,
gapped the new spark plugs. We had to get a new car for our new hobby:
horses. The old Chevy just couldn’t pull a trailer. I don’t remember
what happened to the old car, just that another Chevy replaced it.
I’ve had several cars since, two Vegas, three Subarus, and a Nissan truck.
Some of those cars had lots of miles on them but none has ever taken
me as far as that old Chevy.
Muddy River Poetry Review
Spring 2020
