Spring 200l. Ben and the Civic en route to the Senior Prom. |
It is said you should never love anything that can’t love
you back but I love a 1997 red Honda Civic coupe that isn’t even mine. It
belongs to my oldest son, Ben, who will turn – Oh God It Can’t Be – 32 next
week.
It was purchased from a used car lot in Danbury, Conn., on a
snowy Saturday 15 years ago. For months Ben had been claiming he was the only
kid in his junior class who didn’t have his own
car. I didn’t buy that story – surely at least one of his 200-plus classmates was equally deprived and had to take the school bus – but I did break down and buy him the car which was three years
old and had only 11,000 miles on it.
Ben immediately accessorized the car with four lighted valve
stem covers that made the wheels appear to glow as they turned – perfect for an inner-city pimp but not
for a boy in a town like Wilton, Conn. He kept them on the car for, maybe, a week. His
second purchase, on which he spent every penny he earned working that summer, was a
stereo system so elaborate it took up most of the car’s already limited trunk
space.
One Spring afternoon his senior year he was driving the car home
from school. His friend Fred was in the
passenger seat and our youngest son, Stuart, was in the back when an enormous
buck ran out of the woods and onto the road ten feet in front of them. Realizing
he was about to be hit, the buck decided to leap over the car but didn’t make
it. He crashed through the windshield, his head landing on the console between
Ben and Fred. None of the boys were hurt but the deer, who was still kicking, had to be dragged out of the car and
shot by the police. My wife’s knees buckled when we went to see
the car that night. The front end was smashed in, the windshield – thank
you God for safety glass – had shattered into a million pieces but held, and both
the exterior and interior were drenched in deer blood and covered with deer
hair. The insurance adjuster said he could either declare the car a total loss
and Safeco would write a check for its value, or we could see if
the car could be repaired. Ben wanted it repaired. And it was.
Three months later an elderly driver sideswiped the car. Once again, the Civic was nearly totaled. Once again, Ben opted to
have it repaired.
Ben started college at the University of Michigan in the
fall of 2001. Michigan didn’t allow freshmen to bring cars, so the Civic sat
in our driveway for a year until our youngest son got his license. Ben ultimately
decided he didn’t need the car at all in Ann Arbor. He said it would be a hassle
not to mention expensive to find parking, so Stuart drove it until he went off
to a college that also didn’t allow freshmen to bring cars.
In 2005, Ben started law school in Philadelphia. It would
have cost a fortune to park the Civic in Philly. He didn’t need it there anyway so it stayed in our driveway.
My wife and I bought a Florida vacation house the same year, so we
commandeered the Civic for use as our Florida wheels. The car had lost its hubcaps, so I went to
Wal-mart and paid $9.99 for a set of four plastic ones.
One night we met friends for drinks, then followed them to an
upscale Naples restaurant that offered valet parking. Attendants rushed to open the
doors of our friends’ Jaguar but ignored us. After waiting several minutes for someone to at least acknowledge us, I parked the car myself
and saved $5 in tips.
In 2007, we sold our first Florida house and bought a new
one in a country club community that required residents and guests to pass
through not one but two sets of manned gates. When we showed up behind the
moving van, the guards refused to believe that anyone driving a ’97 Civic with
Wal-mart hubcaps – two were missing by then – could possibly afford to live there and
treated us shabbily. We complained to the management company which instructed the snooty
guards to let us in, but for months we were constantly being stopped by the “Privacy Patrol” whose members assumed that anyone driving a car like that didn't belong in the community.
Ben graduated from law school in 2008 and reclaimed the car, taking it with him to Washington, D.C., where he had accepted a job. He got married two years ago and last March, he and his wife,
Heidi, became the parents of a baby boy. Ben drove Heidi in the Civic to the
hospital, where their son, Teddy, was safely delivered five weeks early.
That night Ben and Stuart, who also lives in D.C., were at Ben’s
house smoking celebratory cigars when Ben received a call that Teddy had been rushed cross-town to a children’s hospital with respiratory problems. The doctors weren't sure he was going to make it. Ben
jumped in the Civic and headed for the hospital. Not being sure where it was,
he got lost along the way – a story that brought a lump to my throat when I
thought about my boy driving around a big city at midnight, lost and frantic with
worry about his own boy.
Three weeks later Teddy came home
from children’s hospital in the Civic.
Today, the Civic spends 99.9999 percent of its time outside Ben and Heidi's Washington
townhouse in a parking lot it shares with two Mercedes, a Lexus, three BMWs,
two Cadillacs and an Audi. Only one hubcap remains and it’s pretty much disintegrated. The “University of Pennsylvania
Law School” sticker on the back window has faded. Nobody following the car would believe an Ivy-educated lawyer could possibly be behind the wheel but
he or she would be wrong. Ben has always been practical and unconcerned about what anyone thinks. He says says it's perfect for the occasional trip to the supermarket or Home Depot, which is all they need a car for in the city.
Heidi picked my wife and me up at the D.C. airport yesterday in
the Civic. Teddy was in his car seat in the back. There’s a “Baby On Board”
sticker in the window just like the one we had on our Volvo station wagon when his daddy was a baby.
I drove Ben and Heidi to the airport in the car this morning. They're taking a weekend vacation for the first time since Teddy's arrival. We’re having a wonderful time with our
grandson. He especially loves the little red car Santa brought
him that lights up and plays songs.
I‘ve told Ben I hope the Civic will someday be
Teddy’s and you know what? It just might. At 18, it only has 75,000 miles on the odometer; the body and interior are in decent shape (the upholstery was replaced
after the collision with the deer), and the transmission shifts as smoothly as
it did the day we drove it home from Danbury.
For 15 years that little red Civic has provided safe passage through the world for
the people I love the most and I can't help but love it for that.
If that sounds strange, so be it.
Teddy behind the wheel of his little red car. |