Brittany and I ventured on another trip together, many years ago. Believe she was 3 years old then, and we were on our way to Quitman, Ga., to visit my parents, her grandparents. She was really excited about this trip. We got down the highway and pulled off for some gas. I noticed the oil light blinking so I checked the oil and had the service station guy check out the light and the oil, again. Full of oil. No problem he said.
About 40 miles down the road, the light came on again and stayed on. Luckily we were near an exit ramp, so I pulled into the Brannen Ford dealership in Unadilla, Ga. They took look under the hood and quickly determined the engine had blown. And, of course, they couldn't work on it because the car was a Volvo. So, what to do. I asked to speak to the man in charge, who was Mr. Brannen, the owner of the dealership. He couldn't think of a Volvo dealership other than one up the road in Macon. That was a possibility, but midafternoon, by that time, on a Friday would only have put the car in the shop over the weekend, and we still would be 90 miles from Atlanta.
I had to call my parents and tell them the trip was off, but first had to explain why to a 3-year-old. Brittany's reaction was to look me very seriously, as big tears rolled down both cheeks. She had wanted to see her grandparents and had expected too all week. Now, she couldn't, at least for awhile. Mr. Brannen suggested we haul it back and ride with the wrecker driver and that we did. So, after waiting another hour or so, the tow truck pulled in, hooked up our Volvo and we climbed into the truck's cab for the long ride back home.
Mr. Brannen had just come back from lunch and he approached us to say goodbye. He handed up a big brown bag and wished us a good trip.
"What's this, Mr. Brannen?" I asked. "That, my friend, contains the best ham sandwiches you will ever eat. My wife fixed them for ya'll," he said.
I thanked him for the kindness he'd shown to us. And for the sandwiches. They certainly were good, even the tow truck driver enjoyed one.
But I couldn't get Brittany's tears out of my mind. Years later, they came back again to haunt me, and remind me of that day when Britt's visit to her grandparents was canceled.
It happened on a Monday afternoon in mid-June, and I'd just received a call from the hospital that my father had died. School was out then, and Brittany was at home watching TV. I walked in and put my arm around her, and told her the bad news. She just looked up at, and there were those big, sweet tears again.
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