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Dad, Can I Have the Keys?

I remember during my relished years as a teenager, my dad would at times let my brother Jeff, and I take turns borrowing his car. 

It was my dad’s dream car - a robin egg blue ‘65 Convertible Mustang. 

His pride and joy. 

There was not another one like it in our driving vicinity, so it caught the attention of many. 

Back then, “Dad, can I have the keys?” became a common question we asked on hot summer days. It was often a suspenseful challenge as to if or who would be granted the liberty of getting the keys for the day. 

I often wondered how my dad felt as I drove away, perhaps a feeling of unsettledness, hoping that I would return it in tip-top shape. Maybe, he was proudly complimented with the perception that we shared the same thrilling interest in this luxurious set of wheels.

Though my dad’s thoughts remain unknown, I still reminisce the joy and sensation I experienced when the keys were handed to me. The honor of him entrusting me with something so precious to him, was astounding. It was such a privilege to drive his car, because it pronounced his confidence in me as a responsible driver.

Cherished Memories
I recall feeling like such a celebrity driving through the park as the warm summer breeze flowed through my long blonde hair. It was such an uplifting experience sitting behind the wheel of this grand car. Cherished memories that will forever be engraved in my mind.

As years passed by, Jeff and I eventually had saved enough money to purchase our own vehicles.  Of course, nothing compared to the ‘65 Convertible Mustang. 

Nevertheless, asking my dad for the keys to his car became very seldom. Taking it out for a spin still offered its moments of bliss however it became a rare event.

Wear and Tear
As the cars aged and became broken down through the wear and tear, so did my dad and his health. Several years ago, I recall quite vividly, that common question on a hot summer day, was asked once again. My brother Jeff, with being the oldest sibling, was often given sometimes the harder tasks in life. Unpleasant responsibilities at times, but no doubt, jobs that needed to be done. With my unconditional yet relieved support, he was usually, “The Man for the Job.” He was capable of momentarily leaving emotions tucked deep inside, allowing himself to deal with most issues rationally. For the safety of my dad and for the sake of other citizens, my brother, for what would become the final time spoke, “Dad, can I have the keys?”

Medical personnel had advised us that my dad was no longer safe to operate a vehicle due to health reasons. He was incapable of driving accurately behind the wheel, putting himself and others at risk of danger. Jeff must have felt anxiety as he prepared to approach our dad with the unfortunate news. Though it would have been easier for the physician to carry the burden, Jeff found more comfort having a family member confront our dad, to speak out of love and genuine concern. Jeff never really spoke much about this incident, but I could sense that “tough love” tormented his heart.

My dad’s speechless expression clearly showed that his pride was stripped from his soul, temporarily leaving behind only rusty fragmented memories of his dream car. Imprinted visions that once paved his road down memory lane, were now all that hung on his key chain. Recollections that no one would ever seize from him. Leaving my dad feeling stranded with devastation, his sense of freedom had been handcuffed with crippling words that used to bring joy and excitement to all.

“Dad, can I have the keys?” now took on a whole new meaning. 

As Dad handed over the keys for the last time, we embraced the happy memories that he made possible by sharing his precious set of wheels with us.   

For the laughter and joy his robin egg blue ’65 Convertible Mustang brought to all of us will remain vividly in our mind, forever.

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