I’d gather an assortment of my favorite fingernail polishes and line them up neatly near the sliding glass doors with the best sunlight. 

I grinned with growing anticipation as I listened for the whistle in the next room to turn to lyrics. My giggles were equivalent to an auditorium of applause encouraging his theatrical antics that always kept me guessing. It was a game to enter the room as if we were the most famous on the red carpet and greeting our adoring fans, which in a way, nothing could be more true.

Just as a high quality production dims the light, he would pause, allowing time to glance at each doorway, keen for movement to focus on. More giggles encouraged a finger to curl around the doorframe with a little wave, or the toe of a boot but at the top, something logistically impossible to reach if the boot was indeed on a foot. Anything could serve as a prop, the more silly, the better, and it was always unexpected. For example a golf club could peak slowly through the doorway and give a wave before tapping the beat to the song Grandpa was already singing from around the corner.

I believe this is when I began to recognized the importance and versatility of a cowboy hat. A hat is just a hat, but can be rather powerful and much more than a functional addition to your wardrobe. The perfect combination of a great man and the right cowboy hat could stop traffic, I’ve seen it happen, and Grandpa didn’t go anywhere without his hat, it was like another part of him. 

Regardless of his entrance, I always squealed and clapped with approval. Sometimes he would extend his hand or tip his hat as an invitation to join him and share my original interpretive dance moves. It probably was a lot of hand clapping and jumping up and down on my part, but I don’t recall a better memory. He would spin me into a dip with perfect timing to the end of the ditty.

Winded from our antics we would settle in for painting my nails. Discussion would be had about the assortment of colors and would you believe it, he would pick the same color I would, every single time!  I almost think he may have been sneaky and tricked me...

He wouldn’t rush painting my teeny fingernails and never got pulled away to do another task. If someone called or stopped in, he made sure that they knew he was spending his time with me, and that made Him the lucky one.

Without fail, he would ask me which color would be best for a brand new car, but not just any car. It would have to be the finest car, a Lincoln Continental. It was his favorite car and he knew everything to be known about them. I would listen intently on the specifics of what it was that truly made it the finest car. He would speak fondly of friends of his that had one and what color each one had. He promised when I was big enough to drive as good as my mama, he would get me a Lincoln Continental, and I could pick the color to match the polish on my toes. 

If you were going to be someone, wanted to be successful and respected, there was no other car for you. I picked up on how his eye’s sparkled when he talked about cars, especially this one. Anything that would make a man’s eyes that happy was important to know about. I think that’s what made me be a bit of a gearhead girl.

He told me stories of going on trips with his friends that were well known, famous in some circles, but from what I remember, he said there would be a pack of them. They would hit the road, hop a plane to Vegas or I swear he said they flew him to the moon, but that can't be right?

He would speak fondly of his buddy Holly, Frankie with blue eyes, and Richie, he was little for some reason that I don’t recall. I was wide eyed and impressed with these extravagant tales of their travels. 

If you didn’t know him, you would think he made it all up, especially when he mentioned a real King, named Cole or another known for rock and roll. I believed every one of those stories, and part of me thinks some of them could have been true. 

I still have all those vinyl records he would play back then, even added a few of my own. When nobody is looking I may dance like a 5 year old and paint my fingernails as I sing along. It’s still a sore spot to me that we didn’t get a chance to find the perfect Lincoln Continental together. 

I am thankful for these memories and I know I am sharing them for a reason. Don’t underestimate the influence you have on another soul, even when you don’t realize it.

Forty years later, if I see a Lincoln Continental on the road or in a driveway, I hear his voice in my head say “that’s a damn fine car” as suddenly need a little Sinatra in my life. 

You may see a big ole car of yester-year, but I see so much more than that, but I especially think of my Grandpa. A silly, brave, tough and loving grown man that loved fine cars and would do anything to make his only granddaughter smile. 

Sivie