Post 380: The only cloud was cloud nine.
Next left. Left at the roundabout. Yes, sorry—that was a late direction. Sorry, second exit and straight on…
I’m such a bad navigator.
I knew where we were going, but I forgot that my youngest didn’t.
Bugger, I did it again. Sorry, son.
This was the first time my Olive got a run out with someone else driving—my son—for a long long time.
But it’s all good, and I’m not worried.
Not worried much.
Not because it’s my youngest—oh no—it’s all about me and my inability to relax about going anywhere in an old machine with total control. Whether it be motorbike or car, I’m still worried: do I have enough petrol? Will the vehicle start each time it’s needed, and without fuss? Have I remembered my phone? Oh God! Why am I so scared of all these things that could possibly go wrong? We have to get there—I promised some of my friends and some of my family I would be there.
But after all that worry, we got to the show, and the happy, helpful marshals soon had us into position. The Volvo Owners Club were in pride of place at the bottom of the hill, with a clear sight of the RNLI museum and the distant pier, its golden domes shining brightly above the calm sea, glinting in the milky sunshine.
My son was attentive to my needs, mindful of my possible fragility while I was out of my comfort zone and in this vast public space filled to bursting with waxed, gleaming vehicles of every persuasion. We were in the clubs section, and while the prestige cars were behind us—with a row of stunning supercars, including an Aston Martin, Ferrari, Honda NSR and new Jags—there was another club showing vehicles born in the UK, memorable for their down-to-earth appeal and affordability and sometime yucky colours.
So the company we kept was truly eclectic but homely. We were not out of place. But my 1964 Amazon was older than all these other wonders—almost like the mother of them all—as we quietly stood out on the corner of the show, beckoning people into the extravaganza. There was a car for every taste, each one setting off memories as people passed by these static legends.
As for me, I had brought a big lounging chair and felt quite at home in it. With some level grass behind my humble grey exhibit, I was not only comfortable all day but visibly available to chat to anyone who came along—many with their own memories, leaping out from dusty corners of their minds: childhood drives in similar cars.
It’s a great experience that teaches humility and patience, as these moments of their lives are retold—sometimes with real emotion—stories nearly forgotten.
We started talking to each other and the public at 10am, once we were settled in, and were still talking as we left at 5pm—seven hours of fun greeting new and old friends who stopped by and made plans to meet again soon. It was an extraordinary success for me in particular, and being treated to such a day wore me out completely. It was to go in the blink of an eye.
I hadn’t snoozed all day, even though perhaps I needed to. But getting home and having dinner with my Darling and youngest, recounting the people we met and the stories we were told—it was truly extraordinary.
With the old Volvo back in the garage for I don’t know how long, I’m glad I had the chance to dust off her ancient paintwork and give her a refreshing day out in the sunshine. She gleamed and stirred those moments of history in passers-by—memories nearly forgotten, but brought back by a cosy car standing amongst such wonders, evoking dreams and happier times.
I write this now, comfortably in bed, glad my back held out so well. Everyone was kind and thoughtful, so willing to share, that I was reminded how important it is to sit still sometimes and drink in the colours of people—those who painted an older, more beautiful world that we sometimes forget is still right here in front of us.
The hope and care of friends, old and new, was not only an extraordinary experience on the day, but a reminder of how lucky I am—to breathe in each morning and exhale a time well spent on this planet.
Take care
Good night.
