10-27-23
My car is getting some stuff fixed, so I've been driving something else recently. My dad is letting me borrow his 2004 Chevrolet Silverado. It has dents all on the outside, the right rear view mirror is held on by tape, and the extra cab door handle on the drivers side is broken. Despite all of its flaws, I don't mind driving it. It's been used since I was born and has never failed, so I trust it. It's been interesting to drive it because I'm used to being in the passenger seat. I've also been feeling a lot of nostalgia.
I was feeling it a lot while driving behind a cane truck this morning. Most people complain about how slow they are, but I don't mind driving behind them. If they're full, they only go five under the speed limit. I actually look forward to seeing them. It shows that the year is moving along.
It also reminds me of my family and especially my dad.
A few years ago, my dad and I were driving around late at night in the Silverado. Before heading home, he decided to drive by the sugar mill that our cane goes to. I found this interesting because it's a part of the process that I didn't usually think about. I had always witnessed the process of planting, fertilizing, and cutting the cane, but I never got to see what happens after.
We pulled into the unoccupied mill and drove around for a while. He explained and pointed out some things. Afterwards, he drove into this large metal building. It was a storage building that had piles and mounds of brown sugar. Just as I was about to ask if being in there was allowed, he put the truck in park and hopped out. I decided to ditch my question, and I got out of the truck as well. I looked around and took in my surroundings. Other than the sounds of the truck running, the night was silent. The air was cold and sweet.
He walked up to one mound and ran his hand through it, as if it was sand. Then he encouraged me to do the same. I bent down and scooped some off the ground, then let it spill through my hands. I did that a couple more times until I was satisfied.
When I was done playing around with the sparkling sand, I got back into the vehicle. I looked to see what he was doing, and he was cutting a plastic water bottle in half. Then he proceeded to scoop and fill the flimsy water bottle cup with sugar. He stole the sugar. Well, I guess it can be thought of as not stolen because we get free bags of sugar after harvest season anyway. When we got home, he used it to fill our sugar bowl.
I always think of this small memory when I follow a cane truck. I guess it's because I think of where it's going. This is why I will never complain about following a truck hauling cane.
And I guess I'm revisiting this memory more deeply because I am borrowing the Silverado. For a long time it was always me, my dad, and the truck. The truck hosted our conversations, played our music, and got us through tough situations. I have lots of unique memories and they happened because I was with my dad in that truck. I'm very sentimental about this vehicle. He can have my car when it gets fixed; I'm keeping this one.
