mobile spirits

the first things i notice every time i get into my
father's 2003 ford SUV is the smell of my mother's
lingering cigarette smoke, a cupholder filled with
dirty change that my father has counted out precisely,
gum in the center console, and my grandfather's spirit.

i can see my grandfather sitting in the front seat
saying "don't complain about the AC not working.
think of a time you felt so embarrassed, maybe in
front of that boy you're so fond of, that you
literally wanted to crawl into a hole and die. now
the lack of AC doesn't seem so bad, does it?"

my grandfather was always saying witty, insightful things
like that. one time i told him that he should write a book
with all his little catch phrases - "you could be a millionaire,
granddad" - and he said, "tell you what. if i publish a book
like that and make millions, you and i will move to a secret
paradise and spend all the money we want."

it sounded like a good plan to me.

when he sat up front, my grandfather would jingle the coins in the
cupholder and smile and make rhymes to go along with his jingle-jingling.
sometimes, he would even steal a nickel or two from the stash because
he knew it drove my father crazy, and we laughed our snickering laughs
at those kinds of things, my grandfather and i.

my grandfather died six years ago. i've tried sounding as
quick-witted and wise as he did, tried to jingle the change
and steal nickels and not get caught, but the shirt of my
grandfather's ways is still too baggy on me, even if i roll
up the sleeves. so i guess i'll just live with his spirit in
my father's 2003 ford SUV, and hope that this car is never sold.