Road trip with my son in my father's car

            After yesterday’s celebrations in Portland, Jonathan drove north and I will head south. He went to drop a niece back at Colby College and his mom back at Dirigo Pines before returning home. This morning, Sam and I leave on a road trip to Baltimore. I have fall break. He has a long, solo drive, so why not? I haven’t seen his new home and look forward to car time in his company.
            As I was loading boxes from Sam’s old bedroom into his car at home the other day (the long, gradual clearing out of their former lives), I was reminded of my Dad. After his death a couple of years ago, we had to empty his home (another long, but rapid clearing out of a former life). One thing that went was Dad’s car, when Sam bought it from the estate.
            It’s a coppery brown Toyota Camry LXE - leather seats, electric everything, not like any car Sam has owned in his 30-year life. It felt funny at first, incongruous for him to be driving such a vehicle. But now I’m grateful. Funny how our chosen travel containers come to hold a piece of us. I still sense my Dad in that car, in the leather smell, the squish of the seats, the smooth opening of the trunk, all the little compartments he used meticulously. He would have loved to know that Sam had taken it on, and was making it his own. It is still impressively tidy, notwithstanding the dog hair.
            My Dad, my son, links to my past and future, are contained in this whizzing piece of machinery. Here I go, riding along with them.
           
My 60th year in 60,000 words
Day 48: 279 words, TOTAL = 7222; 52,778 remaining