Isn’t it weird how a memory can randomly find you, triggered by something. It happened to me when I was on my way to work last night. I was at a stop light waiting to turn when I saw a little red truck. For some, it may just be another vehicle, but for me it was a memory trigger.
It had to of been 2007. My grandpa invited me to go sing kareoke with him at a local bar. Singing runs in my blood to say the least. I was excited to accompany him. Little did we know that night would be snowing heavily. Nothing could stop grandpa from going to kareoke, not even blizzard like conditions. Ever since grandma passed in 2005 it seemed like he was able to live out his dreams of singing wherever and whenever he pleased. He picked me up in his little red truck from my dad’s house. We were maybe a mile from our house, going down a large hill when all of a sudden we hit some ice. For grandpa, it was a joy ride. For me, I was on edge, nearly having a panic attack.
We slid down the hill, turning sideways, like you see in drifting races. When the little red truck decided to make a sharp turn sending us down the wrong way of the other side of the street. Finally the truck came to a stop and the first thing grandpa says is, “THAT WAS FUN!! LET’S DO IT AGAIN!”
I muttered out a laugh and said, “please no, not again”.
Looking back now, it is one of the last memories I have with him. Me, him, and that little red truck.
Life and Christmas have not been the same without him here.