Originally posted in 2011, thought I would share again:
I was moving my mom into an assisted living complex the other day and as I was unloading some of mom’s stuff from my Bronco he rolled up to me in his motorized wheelchair, patted the bumper and asked if it had a 6 or a V8. He must've been ~90 years old. I told him V8, then he asked what year; I told him ’69 then I asked if he used to have one (which I knew from his expression, kind of lit-up) that he did. He said yes but forgot what year; his had a 6 he recalled. I told him it was probably a ’66 through ’68.
He then went on to tell me a story about how he once was out in Eastern Oregon 4-wheelin’ in the desert driving over lava rock. We both were transported back in time some 45 years as he rambled on. At one point he said he bottomed out on a large rock and punctured his gas tank. His expression was priceless. He had this dream-like look on his face as he explained in great detail how he got out and stuck a stick in the hole and then headed home as quickly as he could. He said that when he hit the pavement he floored it, still had a ways to go and eventually got within ~100’ of his driveway… big smile on his face, I laughed and congratulated him and his Bronco.
We talked a little more about his Bronco and then he said good bye and wheeled on down the sidewalk. I just stood there dumbfounded. I didn’t even think to ask him his name; but I know I’ll see him again soon; it’s not a very big place. I’ll have to take him for a drive and reminisce some more.
I was moving my mom into an assisted living complex the other day and as I was unloading some of mom’s stuff from my Bronco he rolled up to me in his motorized wheelchair, patted the bumper and asked if it had a 6 or a V8. He must've been ~90 years old. I told him V8, then he asked what year; I told him ’69 then I asked if he used to have one (which I knew from his expression, kind of lit-up) that he did. He said yes but forgot what year; his had a 6 he recalled. I told him it was probably a ’66 through ’68.
He then went on to tell me a story about how he once was out in Eastern Oregon 4-wheelin’ in the desert driving over lava rock. We both were transported back in time some 45 years as he rambled on. At one point he said he bottomed out on a large rock and punctured his gas tank. His expression was priceless. He had this dream-like look on his face as he explained in great detail how he got out and stuck a stick in the hole and then headed home as quickly as he could. He said that when he hit the pavement he floored it, still had a ways to go and eventually got within ~100’ of his driveway… big smile on his face, I laughed and congratulated him and his Bronco.
We talked a little more about his Bronco and then he said good bye and wheeled on down the sidewalk. I just stood there dumbfounded. I didn’t even think to ask him his name; but I know I’ll see him again soon; it’s not a very big place. I’ll have to take him for a drive and reminisce some more.
