I had spent the day, camera in hand, walking down the endless rows of custom cars. Though a lot of cars seemed alike, each was unique to the trained eye; restored in the reflection of their driver's personality. A follower of car shows, this one is particularly special to me. Walking down a row dedicated to the classic cars of the 80's, a small blue cap caught my eye. After I viewed my picture of the interior of the car's interior did I realize an unexpected guest in the driver's seat of the classic car, grasping the bottom of the steering wheel.
Startled, my eyes darted back to the car. A small boy did indeed sit on the leather seats, comfortable from the warmth of the sun shining through the windshield. Plaid shorts held up by suspenders, kept his chubby body from bursting through the shorts themselves as he sat, obviously pleased with himself. Hands still holding the wheel in front of him he wiggled his feet; scuffmarks marked his white shoes. I imagined the little tyke scuffed his footwear as he clambered his way up from the ground and settled into the spot he desired, right behind the highly polished steering wheel of the car. The denim cap that had caught my eye rested on his head. Being just a tad too big, it bent his left ear out slightly, giving him a monkeyish sort of look. Laughing, a glob of saliva dropped from his mouth, catching on his white t-shirt.
Where were his parents? Did they know he was here? Were they frantically looking for him all over the show grounds? I studied the boy's face, as if he would give me some sort of clue more comprehensible than a wet gurgle of laughter. Kneeling down, I stared at the boy perched in the driver's seat. He quickly diverted his attention back to the smooth ridged wood of the car's steering wheel, captivated by its craftsmanship. It was in this moment filled with squeals of delight, I wondered if I had glimpsed into the car's past, a scene straight from the 80's, so innocent, yet so alluring.
I smiled at the memory portrayed by the photograph. Closing my eyes, I rocked back in my chair, imagining the toddler; eyes squinted in the light of a balmy summers day, pretending that the car that now sat in my garage had been his.