1953 Chevrolet Corvette
1953 Corvette pen and ink drawing by Christopher Parent © 2000
This signed and dated 11"X17" print comes ready to frame for $15.
I saw the car for the first time when I was 5 years old. I remember because it was the day before I started kindergarten and the late summer sun was fading in the sky. To me it looked like magic or some sort of mystical angel that just barely floated above the ground. At that moment all the noises of the world were silent to me except for the sound of the tires crunching along the pavement of the street in front of our house. I watched the car pass by me and knowing our street was a Dead-End, I jumped off the front porch and ran down the dusty driveway to see where this magical car would stop.
It didn't stop. Instead it turned around at the bottom of the hill and came back. Standing with the sun shining in my eyes I watched as the mystery car seemed to float by me like a dragonfly over a pond. The driver was a small bald man who had his left arm propped on the door while his right grasped the steering wheel. I stood almost at attention as he passed me by and watched the grin exploded over his face as our eyes met. His right hand jerked up to salute me and I smiled back and shyly waved at him as he glided by in the brilliant white car.
His name was Mr. Herbert. He was a small Scottish man with a thick accent that often erupted into laughter at anything that was slightly amusing. At an early age I learned how to climb the wooden fence and sneak into his huge backyard to fish in the creek that flowed through the wooded lot. On a bright sunny morning, a few days after seeing him in his '53 Corvette, I climbed the fence and walked up the long sloping hill to his house and knocked on the door to ask if it was all right to fish in his yard. I was a bit afraid but hoping not only to fish but to get a glimpse of his magical white car.
I knocked. When the door swung open a rush of bacon and oatmeal smells smothered me. My eyes widened and I look up to see the figure standing at the door. To my surprise it was not Mr. Herbert but a lady dressed in a flowered dress and the most shiny black shoes I had ever seen. "Well hello, sweetheart!" she sang out. "What can I do for you?"
"Could I fish in your yard?" I asked in the most meek voice I could create. She smiled out of the corner of her mouth and called out, "Herbie! come and meet the wee lad who wants to fish in the creek." I couldn't see him but I could hear the chair he was sitting in scratching along the floor and he stood up. As the sound of his steps got closer I swallowed hard and looked up at Mrs. Herbert and was comforted by her sweet smile.
I didn't know it at the time, as he stood in front of me with his crooked grin, but he would become a man who would leave a huge impression on my life. "What's your name?" he sang out in a thick Scottish accent.
"Chris" I replied.
"Well, I'm Angus Herbert" he said. "But most people just call me Herbie, and this is Mrs. Herbert. I call her Lovie, you can call her Mrs. Herbert" he said with a wink aimed at the direction of his wife. "I understand you want to go fishing in the creek." I looked into his grey eyes and nodded. From that moment on there was a bond between that old man and myself that would live in me forever.
Every weekend I would climb his fence and fish in the creek. He often came out to watch and sit on the bench beside the little grove of alder trees along the creek bank and tell me stories about his life in Scotland and the time he spent in World War I. It was on one of those weekends that I saw the '53 Corvette in the garage. I had lost my last hook on a sunken log and Mr. Herbert took me up to his garage. As he rummaged through an old fishing box looking for the right sized hook, I stared at the cover that was draped over the Corvette. I could see the tires and the red rims of the wheels but that was all. Mr. Herbert's voice startled me as he laughed out, "I found one." Holding up the hook he turned to me and waved it over his head. He turned silent and then said, "Do you want to see the car?
"Okay" I said as I tried to hold back a smile.
Mr. Herbert smiled with his wonderful crooked grin and gripped the cover with both hands. Then, like a magician he yanked the cover up high in the air. It made a sound like thunder and the dust that had settled on it stormed into the air like a tornado and began falling back to the earth. I stood in awe of the Corvette. It was a creamy white and the interior was a rich red that seemed to glow. I absorbed every inch of chrome and every curve of that car knowing that I would remember this moment for the rest of my life. I was young and innocent and the world was a perfect place to me. I was happy and had a wonderful family and old men were driving around in beautiful cars. I felt safe but that would change on the first day I rode in that car.
The Autumn came quick that year and the rain came to Seattle like it always did. School was new and fun and as Halloween came and passed my classmates and I became excited at the thought of Thanksgiving and Christmas. Then one dark rainy day as I sat in kindergarten class the principle walk in the room. He looked strange, almost older to me and as he turned to look at us children his face was blank. He looked like he wasn't there. He stalled and then briskly walked over to our teacher, Mrs. Craig. As he whispered to her both her hands jerked up to cover her mouth. She gasped and cried out, "OH MY GOD NO!" All the children froze at the seriousness of her cry and right away I could see she was trying to hold back tears.
Mrs. Craig gathered us all in a circle and started to talk. She was a gentle woman and closed her eyes and tightened her lips as she tried to tell us in a comforting and gentle way what had just happened. But there was no comforting or gentle way to explain it and the words finally just stumbled out of her mouth: "Children, President Kennedy was just shot and killed and we all must go home to be with our families." As the children gathered in the hallway I felt a fear like I had never felt before. We were all lined up against the walls so as not to block up the hall way. I remember looking at all the teachers as they passed us, staring off into space then closing their eyes and shaking their heads. We were all dismissed and wandered outside under the dark and raining sky. I looked for my brother and sister but I couldn't find them so I walked to the direction of the creek and Mr. Herbert's house.
All the children from school had wandered home and I stood in the rain on the road at a spot where I could watch the muddy water of the creek swell and cascade in its banks. I heard a car behind me but I didn't turn around until I heard it stop and idle next to me. It was Mr. Herbert in his '53 Corvette. In his somber, gentle Scottish voice he called out: "Come on Lad, get in and I'll take you home." I opened the door and dropped into the red seat. It made a squeaking sound as my wet clothes settled into the material of the seat and for the first time since the principle walked into my classroom, I felt safe. The radio was on and a voice was talking of shock and grief and not being able to believe what had happened. Mr. Herbert reached over and turned it off. I looked at him and realized that it was the first time I had not seen a smile on his face. He looked almost unfamiliar to me without a grin. He must have known my fear and winked at me then cracked a smile. He carried me home in that car and as we glided through the wet and slick Seattle streets I didn't know what to tell him or ask him and finally I turned to him and said: "Why?"
He sighed so long it seemed that all the breath in him had escaped. I turned fearfully toward him to make sure he would breath it in again. I was afraid the world had gone crazy...so crazy that Presidents were being shot and old men were no longer able to breath. As his chest expanded and pulled in the damp heavy air I breathed again myself and relaxed back into the seat. "I don't know why" he said, shaking his head.
As we pulled into my driveway I could see my Mom looking out the window at us. She smiled and waved but her red-rimmed tear filled eyes contradicted the emotion she was trying to show. As I opened the door of the Corvette and began to step out Mr. Herbert softly said, "Bring your family over Thursday night and we'll have some of Lovey's pumpkin pie; It's Thanksgiving you know?"
I nodded my head, smiled and walked into the safety of my Mother's arms.
This is a condensed version of a story by Christopher Parent ©2000
