Off The Record

The Son’s Mother Made Him Sell The Car He Inherited. The Son Bought It Back And Learned His Grandfather’s Secret

Published on August 27, 2024

My grandpa passed away when I was 17, but I can still clearly recall that day. My mother sat my two sisters and I down when we had just arrived home from school. This was rare because my mother used to work night shifts and hardly had time to spend with us after school. She took a long breath before breaking the news, and I knew then that something was amiss.

The age of my grandpa’s death was 82. Thankfully, he didn’t suffer, and he had maintained an active lifestyle for his age. My passion for anything with an engine sprang from him because dad used to take me to car events and had a deep appreciation for vintage vehicles. My grandfather had a huge impact on my life, and due to his involvement in my childhood, I ended up becoming an engineer.

Unlike many of his friends who also attended the car events, Grandpa could not afford to purchase a full range of vintage cars, but he did have one car that he spent every weekend detailing and cleaning. And my mom would drop me off every weekend to assist him and spend time with my grandfather. I always assumed Mom just wanted us to be near, but it appears that she found that arrangement more practical.

Nevertheless, some of my best memories are from spending my weekends with Grandpa. We always had a great time and never ran out of things to do, even when I knocked over the oil container and Grandpa unintentionally ruined the red paint job on the Chevy Bel Air. Grandpa never smoked, so he advised me to stick to chocolates in the ashtray, which is why I particularly enjoyed helping him.

I used to get in the car every weekend, open the covered ashtray, and take out a handful of candy. After finishing my snacks in a few swift gulps, we would set to work. My dad would beg my sisters to assist him, and they would always laugh. Rather, they preferred to interact with my two cousins. We never had a close relationship. I didn’t mind, though. I cherished the time I spent with Grandpa.

Nevertheless, I was devastated to learn of Grandpa’s passing. Even in my adolescence, he remained my best friend. I recall sprinting to my room, where I passed the remainder of the night. I wasn’t going to school the day after my grandpa passed away, so the next morning I strolled down to the kitchen still in my jammies, and everyone was staring at me icily.

I apologized to my sisters, thinking they were upset with me for leaving so quickly, but all they did was snort and go on. Disappointed and feeling extremely alone at the moment, I went to my mother to ask her what was wrong.

“Honey, you have to realize that your sisters’ slight jealousy is to be anticipated. You would have known that your grandfather had left you the Chevy if you hadn’t run off.”

I looked at her, astonished. Uncle Grandpa’s Chevrolet? He would never give it to anyone else. It belonged to him. It was not mine to have. By then, I couldn’t even drive safely.

“Now, stop looking so happy. You’re behaving in a truly vulpine manner. You are not going to inherit it, I’ve decided.”

Even more unexpected. I hadn’t even had breakfast yet, and this day was getting to be too much.

“You are not yet a driver, my dear. I would have allowed you to keep the car if you had followed my advice and taken your exam the previous year. Okay, perhaps. To put it another way, I’ve made the decision to sell the car and give the proceeds to your sisters, your cousins, and you. It’s just.”

I was furious. My mother was intending to pawn that car off to the highest bidder, even though my grandpa had put a lot of work into it. The complete disregard for me made my blood boil. It goes without saying that I walled myself up in my room for the remainder of the day, attempting to process the feelings that were roiling inside of me.

My mother would not bend, no matter how much I begged over the course of the next week. She believed that the car had already been sold. After a while, a buyer showed up and made my mom an offer of $70,000 for the automobile. As I watched him drive off, I could practically hear my grandfather sigh with disappointment. That’s when I made the decision to do whatever it took to get the automobile back.

My connection with my mother was, to put it mildly, problematic after that. My sisters always seemed to be a little envious of me since Grandpa left me a car and gave them each only $4,000. However, it made sense. Every weekend I spent with Grandpa, while they did nothing except laze around and refuse to even give him a wrench when he begged for one. Still, I went out, obtained my license, and began working part-time to support myself.

I went to college, saved up a sizable sum, and used my passion for machines to motivate me to pursue an engineering degree. I was able to secure a prominent position at a high-end engineering company at the age of 27, and I was able to fully realize the promise I had made ten years earlier thanks to my class-top ranking. My goal was to get my grandfather’s Chevrolet.

I located and gave a call to the individual who had purchased the vehicle. He was a kind man. Like Grandpa, he was passionate about classic automobiles. After a lengthy conversation, he said I could come by and have a look at the Chevy, even though he was hesitant to sell it. I took a road trip to my hometown and soon found myself admiring the lines of Grandpa’s beloved vehicle once more.

It was surreal in nature. It still had the same color, the trim was in excellent shape, and everything about it appeared to be brand new. Michael, the owner, had not really driven the vehicle. Rather, he amassed a collection of classic cars that he occasionally displayed. Apparently, my grandpa and I were the only two who had ever gotten inside the car.

Hearing this made me very happy, and Mike buckled up and gave me the $80000 keys when he noticed that I was staring at the automobile like it was an old friend. Although the cost was high, it was worthwhile. I smiled broadly as I climbed into the car and headed home. Later, I would go get my other automobile. But I got more out of the bargain than just the Chevy.

As I walked home, I looked down and saw the lid of the ashtray closed. I gave it a quick glance inside with a tiny smile on my face, simply for nostalgia’s sake. Just as I had expected, it was deserted. However, I noticed a white chunk of what appeared to be paper protruding from under the ashtray’s detachable interior. I tried to pull it, but it remained stuck. I eventually arrived at a gas station, parked, and carefully examined the ashtray.

I took out the plastic dish that was supposed to hold the ash, and behind it was an old envelope with my name written on it. I was shocked. Grandpa’s handwriting appeared on it, and the envelope had a tiny yellow tint from aging. It was lumpy and fairly heavy. Carefully, I removed it and tore off the top. A message appeared and said:

Graham,

As much as I enjoyed this car, I think you will too. I expect you to maintain her shine since I’ve taught you how to take care of it.

It doesn’t matter if your mother and sisters are undoubtedly furious with you by now. The only person I think of as family is you.

You see, your grandmother was always taking sides. She assumed I was unaware of it, but all I said was “no.” It’s better not to upset anyone, right?

The outcome of such union is your mother. I was aware of this right away. I have not had a single biological child. However, that is unimportant because you have treated me like a son.

I’m leaving the Chevy with you and giving nothing else because of this. Everyone is aware of their actual grandfather. Since you are the youngest and we are so close, they kept you out of it. But no matter what, you should know that you are loved.

Enjoy the ride,

Grandpa.

I cried a little, but I won’t readily acknowledge it. It was really moving. I had a big smile on my face the entire time I was driving home. I knew Grandpa loved me, even with that startling realization, and I had the Chevy back with the one it really belonged to. I was so excited that I overlooked the envelope.

A few minutes ago, I stopped at home and picked it up from the ashtray. I noticed a massive jewel winking at me when I peeked inside after feeling something rattle about inside. “I had no doubt that you would find the candy,” was scribbled on the back of the envelope, which stunned me when I turned it over.

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