The Fates
have a lot of
personal stories that are told within the family. Some are humorous, some are
just interesting or strange. When a few of my family asked if I was going to include
some of them here, I explained that I thought it might be too much for the
intent of the website. Their response was something like, “Oh, come on.”
Alright, here’s one story…
I’m somewhat of a car guy, having owned quite a few vehicles
of various makes, models and styles. So a couple years ago when my mother told
me it was time to retire her high-mileage Marquis, I volunteered to help her
find another car. The big Fords and Mercs have always been her vehicles of
choice, but she doesn’t care for the luxo-yacht variations. I suggested a basic
Crown Vic, of which she approved. Problem was, most were outside her intended
budget. Then I remembered the surplus police car market. Now I’m not talking
about the hammered city cars, which can be pretty rough and ugly, but the
Highway Patrol cars that typically stay in fairly decent shape. She was excited
about the prospects of heavy-duty springs, brakes and transmission, extra
cooling capacity and whatnot. It even has an aluminum drive shaft. I’ve trained
her well.
Some searching found a beautiful white, late model
lieutenant’s car (that’s what the dealer who bought it surplus thought it was)
in a nearby town. It had no light-bar, antenna or cage holes and sported brand
new high-performance snow tires along with the requisite push-bar and
spotlight. The guy suggested a reasonable price, money was handed over and the
car was driven home. I have to admit, it was quite entertaining to cruise in
the center lane of the freeway at a little over the legal speed limit and watch
the lead-foot goofs in the rearview mirror stomp on the binders at the sight of
the ‘unmarked’ patrol car. Ah…power.
I removed the push-bar and spotlight, replaced all the
rotors and brakes, serpentine belt, spark plugs and air filter, installed a new
battery, had the radiator and transmission flushed, changed the oil with
synthetic, installed new headlights and chrome grill and the piece de
resistance, new alloy wheels with all-season tires. The steel wheels with snow
tires are rotated-in for winter driving. The car looked and ran like new.
My mother lives out of state so my family planned a trip
that upcoming weekend to deliver the car. It was parked in front of our garage
while I was inspecting a small notch cut into the window frame of the driver’s
door where the spotlight had been located. The weather was a little blustery
that day and a storm was approaching in the distance from the south. For
reasons I still can’t remember, I looked up. Maybe it was a reflection in the
windshield or a shadow or maybe I just saw something out of the corner of my
eye. About twenty feet above the peak of our house, I beheld a full-size patio
umbrella, half extended, coming almost straight down at me nose first like a
guided missile, and about as fast. I dove out of the way just before it slammed
dead center into the driver side windshield of the pristine Crown Vic. The
impact forced the umbrella mostly open and it rolled around on the hood and
roof a couple times - its pointed tip lodged into the windshield.
After I came to my senses, I jumped up and pulled it off the
car before it could scratch the paint further. Luckily, the tip of the umbrella
hadn’t contacted the dash so the only serious damage was to the windshield. It
was discovered later that the umbrella had originated from my next-door
neighbor’s deck behind their house. In a series of bizarre events, it had
somehow conspired with the weather in the form of a microburst or whirlwind to
become airborne and initiate a first-strike on my mother’s new car. My neighbor
said they were pretty sure it had even been anchored in its stand.
Extensive vacuuming of glass shards and a new windshield put
everything back to almost new condition. Occasionally when I drive the car, I
notice the scuffs and am reminded of that strange day when out of an area about
7,800 square feet around the umbrella launching site, it dropped from the sky
to within a couple feet of where I was standing. Conspiracy maybe? It does make
you wonder. Maybe grandma hitting the road in her P71 Police Interceptor was
too much for the fates to handle and they were just expressing their opinion.
Whatever. My mom loves her gleaming white Highway Patrol Crown Vic.
- Ranse
Parker
Circle
of Doors
