We are Corolla people

There’s currently a Mercedes sitting in our driveway, a stark upgrade from the Corolla from Sunday.

Truth be told, I’m not really a car guy. I’ve had the benefit of driving upper-average cars during my time – a new Mazda6 and a second generation Impreza WRX are probably the highlights, but beyond rentals I’ve never had anything as nice as a B-Class in the drive.

The bittersweet part of the car is that it’s my Dad’s, and I only have it because he’s in hospital. When I was around at my parents’ over the weekend, Mum was worried that it wasn’t being driven enough. Talking to Dad and asking whether he’d like me to take it for a week, he only paused for a moment before replying ‘Sure. Take it. It’s yours.’ I guess that’s the kind of guy he is.

So, feeling like perhaps the biggest fraud in my street, there is a shiny Mercedes in our  driveway. My beloved and I are looking forward to driving it this week, albeit driving and parking with an added degree of caution. Even if the car does stir mixed feelings in my heart.

It’s my Dad’s car.

I want him to come home from hospital and drive it

I want him to drive around to my house and say hello

I want him to drive and share inane newspaper stories and pun-driven dad jokes

I want him to drive me somewhere like when I was a little kid

I want him to come home

I want him

I

 

In the end I suppose it’s not really about what I want. But I do know that I would give everything to get rid of Dad’s pancreatic cancer. And that the Mercedes is a strange symbol of opulence, luxury and refinement masquerading as achievement. And not-Dad.

We are Corolla people. I don’t need 50 buttons on the steering wheel, I can reach the manual dials. I don’t need a car display screen bigger than my laptop.  I don’t need a reversing camera and side mirrors that swivel up when you park. Well, TBH the reversing camera is nice.

I just need my Dad.