Little red car

Little red car

Little red car, where are we going? Remember when we used to pretend you were a racing car - McQueen - and you spoke back to us? We used to drive down to the lake, every morning, past the train station. We used to say hello to Koko and wave at her, before parking the car and walking by the lake, then to the playground with the slides. Koko, of course, was the train in the station. We were always disappointed by how silent she was, never a “chug-chug” back, when we said hello.

Many years have past and I’m still driving. Not by the lake. Here there is a winding hill road, if you look down you see the sea, beautiful with the white foam of the waves dissolving onto the rocks. In the distance, we can see seagulls in the sky, and boats, still asleep, just floating by.

So it’s just you and me, little car. I no longer have a little boy who wants to race on McQueen and say hello to Koko. I don’t feel a day older, but life goes on. I follow the coast road, carefully, only the guard-rail separates us from a 1km drop into the sea. Soon there will be lots of traffic, people going to spend the day at the beach, but I’m headed for the tower - It’s nothing to look at, really, but it’s high up and you can see everything from there. I’m going to park the car near the tower and look at the beach, at the people arriving early to choose the best spot, with their parasols and beach towels. The kids with floating body-boards. The fishermen, who look around, disappointed that the night has already past, while they pick up their tackle and start heading home.

I stop the car and look around me - the landscape is a work of art.

“Why are you here?” - he asks.

“You know why I’m here” - “You used to go driving too, why did you do it?”

“The roads are dangerous, petrol is expensive, your family don’t know where you are… Why are you here?”

“I want to be one with the sky, the sea, the rocks, the foam, the breeze - can you feel the breeze? It’s like the a mother caressing my skin, she’s telling me to come home.”

“Go home then”

“Where’s home? You used to get in the car and go, maybe for a week at a time. Where did you go?”

“I was working, I was building your future”

“Nobody can build anybody’s future but their own”

“You’ve grown”

“I’ve had to”

I keep looking down. I look at the rocks, how the water breaks and the particles fly up and dissolve into thin air, they become mist and haze… I wish I could do the same. It’s so beautiful here, if I were and artist I’d paint this scene… maybe in an impressionistic style… but that is the point.

“What’s it like, on the other side?” - I ask.

“There is no other side”

“But you’ve come back to see me, where were you?”

“I’m always with you”

“Do you live inside the car, now? You know, I never want to give up this little red car, because it was yours”

“I’m not in the car. I’m in you.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t understand you then. I understand you now.”

“Don’t make my same mistakes, then.”

I close my eyes. Do I want to cry? What’s so overwhelming, is it what I’ve lost, or what I still have? I suppose it’s a choice.

I look at the rocks, at the sea. I picture myself flying, and then dropping, hitting the rocks, the car splitting in many parts, the surf engulfing us… the end. Would it be the end? Would anybody cry at my absence? Will they be happier, not having to deal with my nagging, my moods, my problems?

But the sea… I can’t pollute the sea. I can’t let some poor tourist find me. The fish won’t care. And - there is no other side - 

Little car, it’s lovely here, isn’t it? Little car, we wouldn’t just be leaving our sadness behind, but also the joys, most of all the beauty… It is beautiful here, isn’t it? Little car, why don’t we drive a little longer?

Slowly, I pull out, back onto the winding road. I keep driving carefully, going uphill, following the rising sun.

“You need to be going in the opposite direction - you’re heading away from home and the sun is hurting your eyes”.

“You’ve always got practical advice”

“What other advice is there?”

“Why hasn’t life been what I was promised when I was little? Why is it so hard?”

“It’s not over yet. It will get better, if you let it.”

“What do I have to do?”

“You’ve never followed my advice, so I no longer have any to give… Look at the road, it is dangerous, narrow and with a 1km drop on one side. The sun is hurting your eyes. I told you to turn back and go home, but still you follow the sun. This is you. You follow the sun and then you pay the price. Would you rather do anything else? You chose your road, now you have to follow it because there’s nowhere to turn.”

“Will you hold my hand?”

“Not really safe while you’re driving… but I’m always with you.”

“Why did you leave me?”

“I got to the end of my road… but I didn’t leave you.”

Little car, do you think they’ve noticed we are not at home? Will they have woken up? Will they be looking for their coffee, their breakfast? Little car, why can’t they make their own breakfast? Why do I always have to look after everyone when I can barely look after myself? Little car, I miss them.

The sun is higher up now. It’s very hot. Little car, I haven’t packed any water. I wasn’t planning on going back. Little car there’s a turn off right ahead, shall we take it? Little car, will you take me home? It’s not time to quit yet. We can do it. Little car, we are on this road and we can’t be anywhere else, but every time there’s a turn off we get to choose whether to take it or go straight on. Little car, did you know I had a co-pilot? and he’s always with me even though I don’t listen to him and I don’t do as he says. But he’s there. Little car let’s go home to our family. They’re so irritating. They don’t listen. They don’t do as they’re told. Because we love them so much, and we can’t leave them.