A Moment of Silence at the Intersection

Last Thursday I saw a flatbed truck the size of an 18- wheeler and it was loaded down with cars.  At first glance I hadn’t realized they were cars.  They were all various shades of rust and as flat as could be.  I’ve never seen so many flattened out cars.  I’m thinking there had to be maybe 80 of them divided into four stacks and each as flat as a loaf of deflated French bread. 

 

I made the assumption that these once gleaming showroom beauties were now on their way to the graveyard.  They were making their last trip through town but without the pomp and circumstance or even those little funeral flags.  This was just one last ride past the market where they used to fill their trunks with groceries and past the gas station where they would stop for a drink and a few puffs of air.

 

There had to be a lot of history passing before me.  Each in its time I’m sure became more than just the family vehicle.  On occasion it might have doubled for the upper balcony at the local theatre or a personal phone booth where futures were planned and great ideas hatched.

 

 

Why even now - if one could pump them up again into their original shape and look under the mats and in the ashtrays we might still find change for the meter, hamburger wrappers, or maybe even the 38 Special and cloth bank bag stuffed under the back seat.

 

It doesn’t much matter what faith a car is, they all get into Car Heaven.  It is a beautiful place lined with endless miles of smooth roads; where gleaming chrome never needs polish, tires never need air,and gas tanks never run dry.

 

In Car Heaven puffy white clouds of new car smell delightfully interrupt the brilliant blue sky and birds passing overhead always miss.

 

 

I can't prove there is a car Heaven of course.  You just have to have faith and believe.