That’s what She Said

By Carolyn LeDuc-Krehel My son, Palmer, is 15 years old and, like most teens, eager for his next birthday so he can hit the road. He decided a long time ago he wanted a Jeep Wrangler and has checked out a number of used ones.

About a month ago, I saw a Wrangler for sale on my way into town. Palmer got the information, made some phone calls, ran a CARFAX report and arranged for a test drive.

My husband and I aren’t knowledgable about cars. We get in and drive. When it comes time for service or to buy a used car, we trust the professionals…those people I call “car guys.” Luckily, Palmer’s friend, Jacob, and his dad, Dan, are car guys. Specifically, Jeep Wrangler car guys. Palmer called Jacob and Dan and discussed the Jeep we’d found.

Listening to them chat about engines and paint jobs made me smile, since my dad, George, was a car guy. He helped several of my friends when they went to buy used cars. George would pop the hood, cigarette dangling from the side of his mouth, and begin the inspection. He would check the oil and other engine parts, shake his head and bellow, “Didn’t you ever change the &#*:?# oil in this thing? It’s like TAR!” He made the seller feel bad for neglecting their car’s engine and they would always drop the price way down. It was one of George’s specialties.

Well, Dan offered to check out the Wrangler for Palmer. He looked it over and took it for a test drive. That very same day, I was visiting my mom and, on my way back to Lapeer, stopped at Papa Joe’s market in Rochester to get Dan a 12 pack of his favorite beer as a thank you.

Papa Joe’s is just a few miles from the cemetery where George was buried last December. I decided I would visit the cemetery after I left the market and was thinking it would be cool to put something on his grave, but what? As I walked in the door, there was a display of trail mix and I got the idea to buy a container and sprinkle it around George’s grave. He always loved to feed the birds and squirrels and I figured the critters would visit him… better than flowers! I didn’t pick up the trail mix right away, figuring I would get it after the beer.

Papa Joe’s has an extensive beer selection and I got involved in a long talk with their “beer expert.” I got Dan’s beer and a few brews to try myself. I have a lousy memory and left the store with just the beer…I forgot the trail mix.

As I walked through the parking lot, I saw that someone had left a grocery cart right up against the side of my car. I was griping under my breath about how stupid people are. “Why don’t they walk their cart over to the cart corral? They think they’re so busy and important. Idiots!”

When I reached the cart, I got a big surprise. There was a container of trail mix in the basket. I looked around to see if there was anybody nearby, but I was all alone. George had put that trail mix there for me. He knows I have a bad memory. He knows how much I hate when people don’t put their carts away (I am sure he was having a good laugh at me complaining all the way to my car.)

And, lastly, he wanted me to visit him and leave that treat around his grave so the critters would hang out after I was gone.

I went to visit George and sprinkled the trail mix. Then I went to Dan’s house to drop off the beer and thank him. We bought the Wrangler a few days later.

You may think this is all a coincidence, but I believe George was telling me that he is happy there are other car guys watching out for us. When Palmer leaves for his first solo drive, George will hopefully be riding “shotgun” and will somehow find a way to tell Palmer what he used to say to me when I was newly driving: “Give ‘er hell!” That’s what SHE said.