This is a special Father's Day post written by The Husband aka Joseph Fontanez
***
Over
the years since his diagnosis, The Boy and I have connected on many levels with
like interests. His love of The Peanuts Gang, the '67 collection Spider-Man
cartoons, and my pancakes are an example of things that before I became a
parent I had always wanted to share with my child.
However, it's his love of cars, especially
the movie Cars, that we share a bond that seems inherently ingrained in both of
us. I grew up in the era of muscle cars,
behemoth coupes, roll down windows, and no AC. My Pop was a "wrencher." Any
problems with the family car, and in the '70s there always were, my Pop was out
front fixing it. I seemed to have bucked this trend as I have absolutely no
knowledge of car repair. That does not mean I do not love cars. I obsess over their lines, shapes, sounds and
smells. As does The Boy.
A few
months after The Boy was born, we were getting prepared to take the bus to
visit my sister. With The Boy in tow we boarded at the first stop of the BX14. (We
did not have a car, and living where we did where parking is as scarce as a
Bigfoot sighting, we did not feel the need for one.) It was 11am on a weekday
and we were the only ones on board. The Boy was in his carriage and we
proceeded to the back of the bus so that we would not be in anyone's way. Once
we sat down the driver followed us and proceeded to berate because The Boy was
still in his carriage and would be in someone's way. Still being new parents
and feeling overprotective we tried to express our feeling more comfortable
with his safety having him in the carriage. The Bus Driver refused to drive the bus until we took The Boy out and
sat him on one of our laps. At that point we complied.
The driver proceeded to
drive and between the first stop and the stop where we got off, about 4 1/2
miles later, 3 people boarded the bus. Infuriated and annoyed we left the bus
and gave the obligatory Bronx sarcastic, "Have a nice day", and
continued on our way. At that moment I said to The Old Lady, "We're
getting a car!" It was stated a little more colorfully at the time.
There
was really only one car for me and that car was the Subaru Impreza WRX. I had
obsessed over this car for years. When I was in Asia 90% of the photos I took
were of WRXs. When we were finally able to we bought one in WR Blue, the only
color acceptable to me, in April of 2006. I was so happy to not have to depend
on public transportation or friends to get our family around. That feeling of
independence filled me with pride. Funny how things this trivial can make
someone feel so happy, when two years later we would be hit with the news that
would leave a pit in my stomach that in some respects still exists today.
It's
odd to state that a car could be part of the family. How can an inanimate
object be considered a family member? Well, that car has shared in all the ups
and downs we have had with The Boy. It
was in The Car where we first openly sobbed after The Boy's diagnosis. It was in The Car through rain, sleet, and
snow that I would take The Boy to therapy and The Old Lady to school. The Car
was there for all of The Boy's first days of class. It was there for both of The
Old Lady's Graduations, and I am hoping will be there for The Boy's future
graduations.
You can
tell that I am quite fond of The Car. Just as I had expectations for The Boy, I
also had expectations for The Car. When
we purchased it I had hopes that when The Boy graduated High School the car would
be his. In my mind it would have been like my Pop buying a '69 Mustang
maintaining it and giving it to me at my High School graduation. (Now I had five other siblings that probably
would not be too happy with that sort of arrangement, but I am speaking
hypothetically of course.)
The day
The Boy was diagnosed I felt as if that reality was taken away from me. Crying in the front seat, I felt so uncertain
about the future. When I glanced at The Boy sitting in the back, with his curly
locks and his cheese smile, I thought to myself, "Screw This!", I was not going to let this bury me.
It's
been five years since his diagnosis and I continue to do my best in maintaining
The Car. It’s had its share of dents and dings,
but for the most part it looks good for its age, like myself.
I still hold on to the hope of Norrin one day inheriting The Car from me, which adds to my obsessing over every little repair. That's where The Mechanic (Vittorio Principe) comes in. Or as Norrin calls him, "The Pit Stop." Vittorio makes sure that The Car stays in great shape and more importantly, totally gets The Boy. He has been more than accommodating to The Boy when he visits the shop. Always willing to give him a tour as The Boy marvels at all the different tools hanging in the shop. Meeting kind people is essential to The Boy's development, just as The Car is essential to our family.
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| The Car at "The Pit Stop" |
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| The Boy with Vittorio |
