Corvairs and Conversation.

I think I've mentioned before how mechanical my Dad was and how much he loved cars. He could fix absolutely anything that went wrong in a car, even something like a cracked block had no chance against his mind and talented hands. He had several classic cars when I was very little, the last one I can even vaguely remember was a Corvette, but I have pictures of other classic Corvettes and Corvairs that Dad loved. Yesterday, my fiance and I took Dad for a ride in our classic car, a 1965 Corvair.

It was a beautiful sunny day, even hot, as we pulled into the driveway of Dad's AFH. We went inside and found him dozing on the couch, but when woken, he seemed to be having one of his good days. I think he was happy to see us. We dragged him up off the couch with the help of his caregiver and headed outside. He's looking good after the stresses of the surgeries, but I was still surprised and a little sad to see how slowly he's walking now, how carefully he places his feet, almost shuffling along.

Outside, we showed him the car. My fiance even opened the hood to show him the engine, something he would have paid rapt attention to in the past. It seemed hard to keep his attention now, we would point something out and he would pay attention for a second, then start looking at something else. His mind has really traveled far away into the disease.

His caregiver eased him into the car and we were off, rumbling down the quiet neighborhood street in the warm sunshine. My fiance, who is a wonderful person, would talk to him, mentioning things about the car or asking him about cars or experiences he had had, even though most of the time we waited in vain for a response. We were able to get a few comments on things, though, and it seemed like he was enjoying being in the seat of a car he had once loved. It was really nice to see him there. TBC