F.O.R.D.

Okay, so I like my car. For a 4-door sedan, I really like the way it handles. And it gets up and goes pretty good. But after the mechanic called me this morning to tell me what was wrong with my car, I could here the healthy voice of my Grandpa. Let's just say...he's never been a big fan of Fords. I wanna say he owned a Model A or something, but didn't never after that. I remember the Chevy trucks, two Cadillacs and one Impala (although G-ma bought that one really). But at 9am, I could here him talking about Fords. Of course, that would have been the guy 5-10 years ago. My uncle Kenny said something to Grandpa at the nursing home about buying a Ford recenctly, and he didn't really have much to say. But everyone there (well, except for maybe my cousin's husband and my youngest cousin who is only 15) knew what he would say. And a few went ahead and said it for him because they could hear it too. But m&d (codeword for mom and dad) have two chevy's in their garage...and a yamaha, but that's another story. So grandpa would be proud of them.

Funny how the mind works. Mechanic tells you bad news about the car, and you hear the voice of a man who no longer talks.

(Just to clarify. If you can't tell, this blog is more about that man than the car.)