Thursday, August 26, 2010

The American, he called it.

A while ago I blogged about our sunday afternoons driving through the country with the posh car of our uncle.
Someone didn't read the whole post and assumed my uncle is still alive and he wanted contact because he was looking for Ferrari parts.

The posh car my uncle owned was not a Ferrari, Maserati or Lamborghini, but a large car of unknown origin with, what we used to call: wings.
It resembled a 1961 Chevrolet Impala SS, but the front was a bit smaller and the socalled wings at the back a little larger.

The car had a lot of space in the back and he used it to transport bicycles.
he could put a whole bicycle in a box in the back.
He owned a bicyle and motor shop and as an extra service he used to bring the bicycles to people in the area around town.

Sometimes we wondered if the extra service for his clients was more of benefit for him than for the clients. Often he was invited in for a cup of coffee and that was what he liked best: small talk and something to eat or drink.

None of us knew where he got his car from.
We're living near the German border and he often went on trips to buy some products and parts in Germany. So maybe he bought the car there.

"The American" the called the car and he treated it with utmost respect.
He hated it when children would touch his car, and one could see he always wanted to rub the surface clean after those tiny fingers touched it. Often he could withstand the urge until they were out of sight, but he wanted everything to shine, and shine more.

I wish he was still alive.
I'm sure he would have been able to find someone to supply the spare parts which are needed.


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