The classic Road Runner. A car that has become rusty and is falling to pieces from sitting lonely for years in my parents driveway, quite neglected due to lack of time to give it the attention it needs. Yet when I look at that car, I still see the sprawling red stripe running back across it's shiny, beautiful black painted surface. I still hear the deep rumbling of it's engine, humming softly af first, but getting louder, feeling it in my bones as it gets closer, closer to the driveway. Then the gentle revving just before being shut off outside the garage. I knew within seconds that my daddy would be walking through the door, usually pulling a candy bar out of his pocket for his only little girl.
Oh how I miss you daddy, what I wouldn't give to feel the bristle of your cheeks on my face as you lean down to hug me close.
I bugged you for years, daddy, to get rid of that car. A car that you "would like to fix up someday". Well, it might take me years, but if I can I would like to pour my blood, sweat & tears into that reality for you. I don't even know where to start, but I know how it's going to feel to finish.