The PJs and the car

It’s been quite a week. It began in a bad storm when a (really) large oak tree succumbed to the wind and fell across the front yard, taking a swipe at the edge of the roof, flattening a beloved rhododendron and totaling my car.

My car. My sweet, sweet Ford Escape, a loveliest shade of pale minty green (formally called Frosted Glass). I loved that car. I was devastated when the insurance company called to say they were totaling it.

(Note: We/I were/am lucky through that storm and the one that followed. We only lost power for 25 hours and cable/phone for five days. Many people lost so much more. I am not complaining.)

Before we knew the car would be totaled, I took it to a collision center for an estimate. Knowing it would be a lengthy repair, I jumped on social media and asked for suggestions for a rental. Our friend Paul messaged me and offered the use of a car. It belonged to his late father, Peter, and was just sitting idle in the driveway.  And he mentioned that he planned to sell the car.

He gave me the specs, a 2012 Lincoln MKZ, in pristine condition.  Seriously low mileage (Paul said his Dad drove it to the local coffee shop, church, the gym and occasionally to Cape Cod). His asking price was more than fair. I told him if the insurance company totaled my car I’d give him Dave in a trade.

A few days later we got news my Escape was toasted. We called Paul and swapped a cyber-handshake to buy his Dad’s car.

This morning I cleaned out the Escape. I left a few pennies in a few places and the Penney sticker on the back window. Dave and I joined the throngs on Route 128 south for the afternoon  rush hour run to Canton to swap a check for Paul’s Dad’s car.

It’s a sweet ride. I love my new car.

Here is where the story of the new car takes a very personal twist.

Paul has a son, Paul Junior. They call him PJ. The car was driven by PJ’s Grandpa. Now the car is owned by PJSMOM.

It’s fate, tapping me on the shoulder. The PJs. The Grandpa. (The other) PJ’s Dad giving the keys to PJ’s Mom.

Before I drove out of Paul’s driveway he made me promise I’d drive his Dad’s car to Bruegger’s Bagels, to church (Catholic), a gym, and if I could manage it, to the Cape. He said that all of that would make his Dad happy.

Peter, I will make it all happen.

About pennywrites

This is my third blog. The first covered what I thought would be my hardest battle. The second blog covered the journey that made the first seem trivial. This time I write because I can, not because I have to or need to.
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1 Response to The PJs and the car

  1. Louise Doucette-Johnson says:

    Penny, that story would never happen again in a million years! PJ’s car… indeed it is! You can’t make that stuff up!! Congratulations on your new set of wheels… this truly is ‘your car’ – how could it possibly be anyone else’s car? Best of luck with it my dear friend!

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