It sat there, a shape in the darkness, illuminated by only the light
spilling off of the porch. Even in its dilapidated shape, it commanded
respect, like an old soldier trying to straighten to the position of
attention for the flag he fought for so long ago. The newer vehicles
around it seemed to bow to its presence, as if understanding that they
served a daily and useful purpose, but that this newcomer would perform a
more noble deed.
I looked at this tired old survivor, and didn't think of the many hours it
would take to get it up and running. I'd do that tomorrow.
Not tonight...
Tonight was a night to rest. It was a night for me to shed all of the
feelings of anxiety and worry. A night for me to take a deep breath and
accept that this old war-horse was all mine, with the title in my pocket.
Tonight was a night for the spirit of this vehicle to accept that it was
now in the care of a pair of hands that who treat it with respect, and
maybe even a little love. It would never sit in a barn, covered in
garbage. It would never sit in the middle of a field, lonely and rotting
away, it would never feel the hands of some uncaring driver who looked at
it as "just another farm truck". It seemed to breathe a deep sigh of
relief, like that of a rescued soul...
Tonight was a night for ghosts. A time for all those spirit of warriors
past to find this vehicle, to invest in it there own stories, which would
be revealed as I researched its past decades of faithful service...
I watched it for a little while, and then put my hands on the dented hood.
I could feel the energy over the span of time. How many hands had touched
this very place. I walked around it, my finger trailing along its fenders,
its doors, its sides, its tailgate, all the while wondering at the places
it had been, of the men and women it had carried, and of the events it had
witnessed.
Here, in the darkness, I could almost see the faces of the young men,
dressed out in their combat gear, riding in the back, on their way to meet
their destiny, be it the front lines, or simply from the field to the
chowhall.
Tomorrow I would begin to restore this diamond in the rough to its youthful
livery. Tomorrow I would work my will upon it.
Tonight, however, I would be still, and let it work its will upon me...
Bill Benson
...to all of us...
===
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