Dude, Where’s My Car? September 20, 2011
Posted by Matt in concerts, family, personal stories.Tags: children, Levitt Shell, lost car, Lucero, Memphis, parking lot
trackback
Over the years since my traumatic brain injury, I’ve had to deal with an assortment of problems and annoyances stemming from having a brain that does not always function at its full capability, but there is probably no side effect more bothersome than trying to find a parked car. Most days this isn’t a problem because I leave my vehicle in the same general area of the parking lot at work, but when I’m not in my normal environment, this deficiency in my brain power becomes far more pronounced.
I say this because it struck again last night. I took my daughters to the Jim Dickinson Memorial Folk Festival held at the Levitt Shell in Memphis. It is one of many free music events that take place on a regular basis in the park when the temperature is conducive to sitting outside and it also happened that this particular performance included one of our favorite bands from Memphis, Lucero. While I’ve seen better Lucero shows over the years, the girls really enjoyed it and we even got to hang out with my good friend Chris, so by all accounts, the night was a success.
It was getting late for a school night, so we left after Lucero’s set and before the North Mississippi All-Stars took the stage, and that was when I realized that I had no idea where the van was parked. We started off walking to one side and we trudged on and on through the dim street lights with the power of the North Mississippi blues blaring from some distance away, but eventually, we realized that our vehicle was not in that direction.
My younger daughter was sick of walking by then and started in on the whining, “Daddy, where’s our car? Daddy, why can’t you find it?” and on and on, until I finally picked her up and placed her on my shoulders, while still holding the blanket we sat on at the show in my hands. So, we then turned and walked the other way and again we walked and walked, moving between the darkness-piercing streetlights and hoping against hope that maybe, just maybe the van would magically appear in front of us.
It didn’t.
After several more minutes of walking, my younger daughter again cried out, “I’m tired, I’m cold, I’m wet, and we’re NEVER going to find our car! Daddy it’s gone” and then she broke down in exhausted tears. I patted her leg, which was still draped over my shoulders as her increasingly heavy 6 year old from bore down on me, and we kept moving forward, placing one foot in front of the other in the darkness.
At some point we realized we were beside the golf course and it was like a light was suddenly turned on over my older daughter’s head. “Daddy,” she said excitedly, “There were golfers where we parked! I remember! We’re almost there!”
I assured her that she was right, that we were almost there, but truthfully I had no clue. There was a faint memory of golfers, but I can never be sure if we truly saw them or if I am creating the image in the hope that it is correct. So, we walked and we walked, until finally her finger shot forward in the night air, and I heard her call out, “Daddy, I see it! I see the car!” and she took off running down the street.
Being somewhat encumbered by a little girl who was beginning to make me feel like the mythical Atlas, I was lagging behind her, but we eventually caught up with her and, lo and behold, she was right. We had finally found the object of our hunt, the elusive Siena, nestled in its hiding place in the midst of a multitude of vehicles. And just like that everything was right in the world again.
So, today I downloaded the Find My Car app for the iPhone.
Comments»
No comments yet — be the first.