Driving my new pickup, well new for me anyway, I drove into town and towards the hotel where he worked. Actually, it wasn’t just where he worked, he owned the place.
Dad had finally given me his truck which I had adored since I was little and I was getting away in it for the summer to earn some money for college this fall. I decided to go to his town, the place where the man lived that I had never met. My Dad’s Dad, my grandfather, and I had never met him.
As I drove I thought about how he had abandoned my Dad and my Dad’s Mom twenty years ago and left them with just this old pickup truck and an apology that he just had to get away. Grandma always told me that she didn’t have any hard feelings but wished he had at least checked in on his son sometimes and then hoped he would have gotten to know me once I was born. But he hadn’t. He just left the truck in his driveway at home with a note that when my Dad turned 18 he wanted this to be his birthday present. A twenty-year-old truck and that was it. He was gone.
Dad cherished that truck. He drove it all over even when he had other cars too once he got married and had a family. But I knew the old pickup was his favorite. It was his only link to his Dad.
Grandma said that her husband couldn’t settle down but she could. So she married a few years later to a guy who was very nice to her and provided well for her and was the only Grandpa that I ever knew. My mom’s parents had died in a car wreck before I was born so I never had grandparents other than Grandma and her second husband.
Dad seemed to do well and I think he worked harder at his own marriage than anybody I knew and they got along great. And they had me so why wouldn’t they be happy. Smile.
I never really thought about my real Grandpa until three years ago when my substitute Grandpa died. Grandma was so sad for a long time and talked about how good their lives had been together. But then sometimes she would talk about Dad’s Dad and somehow it was always with fondness. And she talked about how he had done really well for himself and owned a hotel five hundred miles away and had even sent her a sympathy card when her second husband died with a nice check inside it to help with funeral expenses. I could tell that she didn’t care about the money but she smiled to think that he knew what had happened to her and cared enough to send it to her.
Anyway, when Dad gave me his pickup truck I mostly cared about it because it was Dad’s truck and I loved him. The truck reminded me of him and his giving it to me told me that he wanted me to have something that was really important to him. It was probably his most prized possession so I know he thought a lot about it before he gave it to me.
Then when I decided to go away for the summer to earn some money on my own to get used to being out there, away from home, before college I started thinking about where I should go. There were lots of places that I could have gone but I decided to make it an adventure and just start driving and wherever I ended up I would find a place to stay and get a job. I had a thousand dollars so I wasn’t broke and knew I could get along OK until I got my first paycheck in a few weeks.
So I’m driving down the road and start seeing signs for cities ahead and how many miles it was to them and I saw a sign to the city that I had heard Grandma mention was where the check was from that her first husband, Dad’s Dad, was from. I thought to myself well it couldn’t hurt to drive there and at least look around. Wouldn’t it be funny if I ran into Grandpa somewhere, the man I have never known as Grandpa? But who knows maybe I’ll see him at a mall or a restaurant or something.
The only reason I would even know what he looks like is that I saw a picture of him in an old photo album that Grandma has of Dad when he was little. Of course, Grandpa was in some of those pictures so maybe I’d see the resemblance now that he’s older. Probably gray hair now or he could be bald I suppose but I bet he’s not bald. The pictures showed him with lots of thick hair like Dad has. And like I have actually. At least he gave me something good.
So I’m about ready to pull into a hotel and see if they have any rooms left for the night when I see this nice SUV about ready to pull out. For some reason, I looked into that vehicle as I was turning and saw a man that looked like Grandpa might have looked. I have no idea why but it flustered me so much that instead of taking my foot off the gas I pushed it down harder and it felt like I even got mad as I drove my truck into his car. I think for a moment I was just so angry at him for abandoning my Dad, and in a way me because he never checked on any of us.
I hit his car and stopped with a thud. My head bounced off of my steering wheel but I was OK because I had my seat belt on. I could tell right away that I would be in big trouble and that my truck was a mess. I moaned and then I saw him get out of his car and check on me. He really seemed worried that I might be hurt. He didn’t care anything about my truck, didn’t seem to notice it at all at first, and was just concerned about me.
I got out of the truck and moaned some more but told him I was OK that it was just the truck that I was worried about because it looked like it was in big trouble. He told me not to worry about it because my insurance would pay for the damages even if my rates went up some but that the truck could get fixed up until I could buy a good one. I gave him a mean look and told him that my Dad loved that truck and drove it for twenty years and my Grandpa, who I never met, had driven it from new for twenty years before that, and I intended to drive it for the rest of my life.
He said he didn’t mean anything by it but then I told him that I didn’t have any insurance yet that I was going to get some as soon as I got a job. He frowned that I was driving without insurance but then seemed to notice the truck. He walked closer to it and touched the hood. Then I saw it. He knew the truck. He knew it in a special way. He realized that it had been his truck.
Then he looked at me and I could tell he knew who I must be but he didn’t say anything. He called a friend of his who worked on trucks and his friend came over to tow it to his place and I could tell that his friend knew the truck too. It seems they had known each other since they were kids. That guy knew not only my Grandpa but the truck too.
As the truck was being towed my Grandpa, who hadn’t told me who I was, told me that I could stay at the hotel while the truck was being fixed. I told him that would be nice but I would work for it, I didn’t take anything for nothing. He said that wasn’t necessary but seemed kind of impressed that I wanted to work so he gave me a job. We walked into the hotel with my suitcases and he got me checked into a room and then introduced me to the person who would help me get started working there cleaning rooms.
I started working there and would work every day and my Grandpa would be away all day but we would eat dinner at the hotel every night. We talked about all kinds of things. He asked about my life and what I was interested in and about my parents. Once I mentioned my Grandma and he asked how she was and I told her about Grandpa dying and he said he was sorry. He never let on that he knew any of us and I didn’t tell him.
Then after a week, my truck was fixed and his friend brought it to the hotel for me. I asked him how much I owed him and he said nothing that he was just glad to be able to work on it again. As soon as he said that he realized he had said something he shouldn’t have and tossed me the keys and went over to where his assistant was who was driving him back to work.
I looked at Grandpa and he stuttered and stammered and finally, I walked back into the hotel and worked my shift for the day. He went on to where he was buying another hotel and came back that evening. He saw me from his room and walked out on the balcony as I was getting in my truck to drive it. He yelled down that he was sorry that he hadn’t told me that I was his granddaughter.
The door slammed as I got in and drove away. I was mad right then that after all that time with me he hadn’t wanted to tell me who he was. We had been together for a whole week and he hadn’t said a word. He just pumped me for information about my family, his family.
For a few minutes, I thought about just driving away. But then I thought about my luggage and the clothes that were at the hotel. Honestly, though that is not what I cared about. I cared about this man who I had never known. This man seemed a lot different now than the man must have been when he left my Grandma and Dad. Maybe he should get another chance. With me, with my Dad, and who knows, maybe even with Grandma.
I didn’t know about all of that for sure but I found myself circling some streets and coming back into the hotel parking lot from the other side. He was still out on the balcony with his head leaning on the railing. I pulled up and yelled up to him, “Hey, Grandpa. Want to go for a ride? I’ll even let you drive your truck.”
He looked down at me and could hardly speak as he said, “I sure do, but it’s your truck now. And I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you earlier about who I was.”
I smiled at him and said, “Ah don’t worry about it. Why do you think I hit you?”
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