Reflections, My Grandparents: Part I

Yes, more on my grandparents. Too many memories. Must write. This one is about my grandpa.

My grandpa was, to put it nicely, a bad, bad driver. He did it all: sped, tailgated, exhibited road rage, I'm not too sure his vision was all too great either. When I look back, I realize that I should've been much more scared than I actually was.

This story isn't about his bad driving, but it does involve a car. When I visited the farm, there wasn't much of anything to do. I was allergic to everything in sight and my face would puff up and I'd start to wheeze if I even so much as thought about going outside. When I did get to go somewhere, it was a big deal. Grandma and grandpa were usually busy with the farm, they didn't have the money or time to take a little girl out. One of my favoritest things ever was to go to the park.

One day, grandpa offered to take me to the park. I was all gung-ho eager about this and ran quickly out to the car. Now, grandpa was old school. He was raised to hold open doors for ladies and then shut them behind them. I hopped into the car. But I didn't hop quick enough-- or he was too quick to shut-- because the next thing I knew I had pain exploding around my ankle. Before I could even breathe, think, scream, it happened again. And again. Finally, I dragged in a ragged breath and shoved against the door, screaming "Grandpa! My ankle! Stop!" I should mention at this point that grandpa tended towards absent-mindedness. He didn't hear and he was determined to get that car door shut.

Finally, after god knows how many slams-- I lost count in my haze of pain and all of the screaming and pushing I did-- I managed to yank my poor leg into the car. I could do nothing but huddle there, whimpering in pain. Grandpa climbed into the driver's side and told me to buckle up. I remember just sitting there, blinking up at him, realizing that he had no clue. I couldn't help it, I burst into tears. He panicked and called for my grandma, thinking I'd gotten sick. I hobbled into the house.

She took one look at me, looked at my grandpa, and asked "What did you do to this child?" I told her of our little misadventure, she sighed and pointed me to a chair while she got an ice pack. That's when my grandpa asked "What? Is she sick? What happened?"