A flattering aged automobile named happiness
August 1, 2017 - Picnic Time
Many, many years have come and gone; a years have been kind. But 1986 binds a special place. My father, an Army officer, was posted in Shillong, a collateral city of Meghalaya (‘abode of clouds’), a pleasant place to be. Here, we bought a initial automobile — an old, used Fiat.
My hermit and we were jubilant. We had sat in Jongas, Shaktimans, one-tonnes… an peculiar float in a staff car, though never in a automobile all a own. Our lapse from propagandize was roughly always followed by a discerning change, an even quicker lunch and a lurch to a garage. Our pockets bulged with kiddy things — ‘Picnic’, a sweet-sour candy, Morton coconut toffees nesting in golden-purple wrappings, chocolate lollipops from Kalimpong, honeyed scented wood-like supari….
For us, anytime was cruise time. We would lay in a car, hurl down a windows, hang out a heads, gawk during a pines. We would be there for a larger partial of a day — snacking, personification house games, or only sanctimonious to expostulate a cab. The internal black-yellow cabs charged Rs 5 to expostulate anywhere in a city. We substituted places during a wheel, ‘Monopoly’ income was money — elementary times, elementary pleasures.
Weekends were when we would go on a joyride, as Dad would call it. The initial hindrance was always, always ‘RK Brothers’ in Police Bazar, a fancy, though medium store that stocked alien items. We would fill on twin-flavour softy, pestering Mom for goodies for later.
But while a initial hindrance was a store, there were many halts along a way. The engine of a automobile would feverishness adult each few kilometres, a lifeless grey fume fusing with a flapping mist, not meaningful that is which. The automobile would choke, cough, sputter. Dad would lift over, lift a carp and lard her with H2O from a bottle to ease her nerves. The cold H2O attack a boiling aspect would be followed by wheezing and whistling… Sizzlers, to this day, are a sign of that time. We would giggle; we were wonder-struck. Our automobile was perfect.
Bottle after bottle she would ingest, compartment she calmed down. We would make an early start and projection along even some-more H2O in a boot, cushioned over an aged burnt-orange comforter, on days we gathering to a apart Seven Sister Falls, or Cherrapunji.
Dad never regretted shopping a car; says it filled us with cheer. Every day was an adventure, each day a new experience. He sole it when it was time to pierce on, to his new place of posting. We were unhappy to see it go; it was a closest thing we had to a pet. We hoped it would move as most fun to a new owners.
Better cars have come and gone, since. More comfortable, some-more smooth, nothing in need of cooling. Happiness has a hardness — a kind that came with a flattering pink car, with off-hand pink window fate collected in the middle, is matchless.