As I stood over the gray-colored stone, the rain soaking me through, images flashed before my eyes. The way he'd taken care of her so delicately, took her everywhere he went and fixed any damage that he might've caused. My fists curled up, nails digging into my skin. It'd been an icy cold day when it happened. I begged him to stay home, that it was too dangerous to take her out. But he'd been so persistent about it, so confident. "Don't worry, he said, smiling. I'll be all right with Daisy." Tears welled up in my eyes. The memory of it was still fresh in my mind, even though it happened five months ago. I remember the day like it was yesterday. On the morning of June 14, my sister called me telling me there'd been an accident. A reckless girl had pushed Daisy and him into a tree, she said, crying. My dad initially survived but was severely injured. Daisy was badly hurt as well from the impact.
In the hospital, he went into cardiac arrest and fell into a coma. We were hoping, praying he would wake up. When he didn't, the doctor gave us an ultimatum. Let him suffer or let him die. In that room that smelled of chemicals, the smell of death was stronger. I regained my senses, remembering where I was. The rain poured down harder, and I could barely see the gray stone in front of me. I remembered the aftermath after we let him die. Daisy healed up nicely after her injuries healed up after a few months. But it didn't change the truth of what happened.
She was unable to protect him or save him from death. I felt so bad for her, but there wasn't anything I could do to cheer her up. Now we don't take her out anymore. No one can coax her to come out with them on trips. The last time we attempted was when my mother decided to take Daisy out to the store. But she would not go, despite our protests. In frustration, my sister yelled at her that my dad would want her to go out. Ultimately, my family gave up on Daisy and went about their lives.
But, as I was standing staring at my late father's grave, I saw Daisy drive up and flash her headlights at me, beckoning me to come closer. I approached her, opened the door, and got inside. The smell of minty fresh gum mixed with the scent of tobacco was an overwhelmingly welcome sensation. Then, I heard the radio turn on. The song Don’t You Forget About Me by Simple Minds came on. A smile crept across my face. It was my dad's favorite song, and I found myself singing along to it. As I was doing so, the car drove away from the graveyard. I wasn't scared or horrified that the car didn't have a driver.
All I could focus on was the music and the smell of tobacco and gum that lingered in the air. Don't you forget about me, don't, don't, don't, don't, don't you, forget about me." Daisy drove down the road slowly, allowing me to view the outside. As she drove up to my driveway, I sang the last parts of the song. I didn't tell my family or anyone what I'd witnessed that day, and everything returned to normal in our household. Or what we considered normal. After what happened at the graveyard, I decided to adopt my old man's car, and I take care of her the way he did.
Since we’ve become close, even though Daisy doesn’t talk. Although my father’s death was tragic and I suffered for months because of it, my friendship with Daisy wouldn’t be possible if it hadn’t occurred. I protect her by checking her engine, oil, and gas. But she protects me more than I do her. On one occasion, I was walking in a neighborhood to go to the mailbox. Two men attempted to grab and kidnap me. But then suddenly Daisy drove up right behind them and honked. It scared the two men, and they ran away screaming right after. I breathed a huge sigh of relief. Since then, Daisy won't let me leave without her driving me. I don't mind since I live in a city now. I moved away from my family one month ago. They told me to get rid of my dad's car since it doesn't run anymore, but I know they are wrong. So I told them I got her working again, and that I was moving away. It took two weeks until I finally left because of my mother's persistence. She insisted that the car didn't run and that shouldn't be the reason for moving. But then, one day I went out to go grocery shopping.
Unknown to me, my mother was watching through the curtain. But Daisy must've known because she wouldn't turn on by herself. I did manually, and of course, she turned on. After that, I left with no problem. Life in the city was great so far and I have visited many new places. Unfortunately, my family never visited me. They hated that I moved away, but I was glad I did. I made some friendships as well, but Daisy has remained my closest friend since I moved into the city. I still didn't tell anyone about the incident at the graveyard or anything else.
Every weekend, Daisy and I went out driving, listening to my favorite music, and my father's. The years went by quickly. I got engaged with the love of my life, a girl called Macy. But I did not decide until I knew that Daisy liked her. After our marriage, I decided to tell Macy about the origin of my car. I didn't expect her to believe me, and I thought she would think I was crazy. After hearing my story, Macy theorized that my father's spirit was with me in his car. I agreed and realized that I'd made an unlikely friendship with a car, one that would last a lifetime.