Let’s hone this story down to the essentials. The peripheral details are a distraction. Or as Bertolt Brecht would say: “And I always thought: the very simplest words / Must be enough.”
It started 3 weeks ago. Her idea. First announced in a two-word text message: Hey Dad. A mere two-word sentence that is customarily succeeded with cash outflow. The three dots flash: ping, ping, ping, ping. One hand grips my smartphone, the other hand protects my wallet. Here it comes.
Let’s go Dad. Come on. Let’s you and I go. Just the two of us. Come on Dad.
She’s gainfully employed, and no longer tethered to Mom and Dad. But, she remains fully tethered to the rent-free, food-free, laundry-free and chore-free arrangement — and bathing in it guilt-free.
It will be a Father – Daughter thing. How many times do you think you and I will have this opportunity? She deftly moves her Dad into position, places his right hand on the fulcrum piece on the teetering Jenga tower, and the tower wobbles and collapses.
OK Honey.
And as Paul Harvey would have said, now here’s The Rest of the Story.
She insists that we rent a car. I tabulate the rental charges, taxes, fees, valet parking, tips, gas vs. the cost of cabs. And add the insurance costs for (potential) damages to the car after I waive off the additional collision coverage. It doesn’t make sense Honey. Come on Dad.
We rent a car. A small, late model Toyota Corolla.
We park the car with the valet at the Hotel. “Valet Parking” (n.) aka gouging. The nearest public parking lot is one mile away, just close enough to think about self-parking, far enough to capitulate. I hand the valet the keys.
We call down 15 minutes early to have the valet pull up the car. I show the attendant the parking ticket: #371. The car isn’t here yet, Sir.
There’s a gray Corolla parked along the wall, sandwiched between a Range Rover and a glimmering Audi R-8 at the rear. There’s a chance that this Corolla is not our car. The ever-polite and ever-tolerant Canadians wait. And wait. And wait. The valets scurry, hand off keys, accept tips and go at it again. Ten minutes pass. This is irritating.
“Would you mind checking to see if that is our car?” It is our car. No apologies.
“Would you like to pull it out yourself Sir?”
As we watch the cars streaming in and out, the valets pull up all of the luxury cars for the guests. High grade Goodyear and Michelin tires gripping and groaning on the treated asphalt. But I’m asked to pull up my own car. My hand reaches out for the keys, Nice. I’ve got it.
The car is wedged snuggly between the two cars. I inch the car forward, and back, and forward and back again, before pulling out. A sardine wedged amidst caviar in a can of sardines.
“Sir! Wait Sir! Stop! Sir!” This is followed by a sharp whistle.
A tall, strapping, 20-something German runs up to the car. He’s red-faced. And panicked.
“Sir, I’m the valet supervisor. You just hit the $160,000 Audi R8 behind you. You MUST wait.” I’m being scolded by a German exchange student, studying engineering during the day. He must find this disorder unacceptable — he just prevented a Hit and Run. Hit?! HIT? It’s not as if I was moving at 75 mph. Hit would be the wrong verb. Tap, maybe.
Franz is snapping pictures of the R8 and on his knees inspecting the car. He then does the same with the Corolla. With far less due diligence than that afforded the R8, naturally.
“Sir, there does not appear to be any marks or damage to the R8. However, these $160,000 cars have intricate fuel systems. The damage may not be visible and we’ll need to advise the owner. We will let you know if there is any damage.”
Intricate fuel system damage from an air brush. Potholes would cause more damage. It was a tap. A brush. A touch. A kiss.
Franz continues with his disclosures and is writing down contact information on his report. I’m peering through my rear view mirror. Are you rattled over the potential damage to the R8 or that you didn’t feel, see or hear the contact? The bump. The tap. The brush. A touch. A kiss.
“I don’t believe that I hit that car. I mean I don’t believe I bumped it.”
“You did Sir.”
“I’m not denying that. But, did you notice that your Junior valet had pulled up every other car but mine. Every other car. And if you were so worried about your R8, you shouldn’t have parked it so tight. Why didn’t you pull up my car?”
Franz, sensing a potential confrontation in front of the other guests, pauses, sighs and relents. He wishes us a good evening. “We’ll be in touch.”
Franz steps backs from the car. The smooth jazz echoes in the garage. I turn up the volume in the Corolla, searching for 8o’s Rock, the rear speakers cackle and fizz, adding to my agitation. Damn it. I turn off the radio. Rachel and I sit in silence, the Corolla purring like a kitten.
As i’m pulling out, in my rear view mirror, I see Franz scolding his young protege.
I forgot to tip him.
Screw your R8.
Notes:
- R8 Image
- Related Posts: Driving Series
You are a much nicer human being than am. This reminds me of a trip to attend a workshop at a very nice resort near Atlanta back in 2004. They parked my (Audi A6, since we are highlighting Audi today) under a tree and when they brought it to me, it was covered, yes covered in bird poop. I pointed that out to the valet and he advised me that I could get some paper towels from the mens room to clean the windshield. My reaction was not nearly as pleasant as yours. Although it was an hour before we left , we did have a freshly washed car to drive home in and a free lunch while we awited. Not sure what happened to that valet, though.
Smiling. Great story Ray. Thanks for sharing.
I love this piece. Who wrote it? Their style is so great, I like the wit. The “cash outflow” voice must be universal.. When I first saw the photo I thought you’d been to the New York Auto show that I read about in my “Car and Drive” magazine email, yesterday. Lots of eye candy in that email 🙂
Ha!
“It was a tap. A brush. A touch. A kiss.”
I’m so sorry to guffaw in the middle of your misery. HAhahahaha!! That was hilarious and horrible. The tumbled wreckage of a Jenga tower trying to find solace in the crappy radio appointed to a Corolla, under his daughter’s spell. Way good. Sorry that you were anointed to give us all a good laugh this Saturday morning 🙂
Smiling. Mission accomplished. Thank you for the kind words Catherine.
I smiled as I re-read the post and noticed the two previously overlooked clues that ‘you’ wrote the piece about a memorable father-daughter experience. // “I turn up the volume in the Corolla, searching for 8o’s Rock” My first car as a teenager was a brand new Toyota Corolla, it came without a radio.. So my portable Sony sat on the floor in the backseat, volume turned on loud, to KINK-fm. (fusion jazz, Journey, Foreign, Little River Band, etc) The Corolla was Mustardy, gold in color. It was dubbed the bee attractor, hornets mostly. I drove it for13 years, ended up needing something larger. I’ve only owned Toyota’s, brand loyal to Heinz Ketchup too.
So good. “dubbed a bee attractor, hornets mostly.” LOVED this. Yes, the radios in the old Datsun’s and Corolla’s were either non-existent or poor. They’ve come a long way.
Wonderfully engaging. At first I thought you took the rented Corona over to the R-8 that she REALLY rented. Then I wondered why a valet would park such a valuable car in so close with two other “Ordinary” cars. Hell, if it were MY R8 I’d part the thing in two parking spaces! Since the fanciest car I’ve every owned was my first, a 1970 Camaro Rally Sport 350, I’l never know the panic of the R8 owner when he hears the story. And, frankly, am better off for it.
Smiling and laughing. Great comment. Thank you Claudia.
So. Very. Funny.
a kiss can be so powerful sometimes. )
Crafty!
But what about the dad/daughter time? And you could have told the valet that you kissed the Audi for luck.
Good one!
Fabulous writing. But was Rambo under wraps again? He would’ve been asking for proof that he actually kissed somebody. No lipstick, no kiss, he would’ve said.
Rambo is waiting, internalizing. 🙂 Love the no lipstick, no kiss. LOVE THAT!
Thank you Helen.
Toyota Corolla or Audi R8? Couldn’t you embelish the story a bit! ha Please check for the sticker on your forehead but Im sure your daughter will not forget this special time with her Dad and the Corolla….. 🙂
Ha! Wish I could have embellished it a bit. 🙂
Ha well I like your honesty!!
This is one for the ages. “Dad, do you remember the time we……..”. Remember, ” there are no ordinary moments”. Dan Millman, The Way of The Peaceful Warrior.
Smiling. How does one definition “euphemism”?
Smiling. So true.
Oh, gawd, this made my jaws ache (clenched).
Laughing!
Lol! You and your hilarious writing. By the way, my young one, who now has a job which will pay more than any job I have ever had in my long life…is paying a little bit to live here since he still wants to live here. I figure he may as well start getting prepared for what it’ll be like when he’s truly out on his own. I have also threatened to just quit my job and let him take care of ME for the next 20 years now. Surely, it’s my turn to take a break.
Thank you Carol. Be assured I tried to press on Rent contribution path. Response: No Dad. How can you argue with that?
And yes, I will enjoy the day when our kids can carry us. 🙂