Today was British Field Day at Liberty Park in Salt Lake City. I walked there though I could see that it was going to rain. Sure enough, it was raining and pouring most of the time I was there. So this is one shot I was able to take with my cell phone camera. I liked how the reds stood out against the green of the park and the gloominess of a rainy day. Another interesting photograph waiting to happen was the area where all the cars were leaving the display area. Rainy day. So the cars' brake lights reflected off the wet pavement. And the rush and crowd to get the cars out of the rain. Made me feel like I was back in Park Lane, Westminster City, London. It's the only part of London I can claim to be remotely familiar with. Near Hyde Park. West One. The Mayfair, all that. But it's also a very, very busy area. Never quiet.
Now, back to the field day and Salt Lake City. There were great motorcycles, race cars, luxury cars, and Land Rovers on display. I bought some t-shirts from previous years: 1999, 2008. The whole event was a benefit for Saint Paul's Episcopal Church's Community Outreach Fund. Walking back home, I felt some sadness for the time I owned an old (very old) Range Rover. All the time I owned it, I rarely enjoyed it the way that I should have. I always worried about the money it cost to run and repair. That it never ran perfectly for very long and without a lot of expensive attention. I'd worry and worry endlessly about a tear in the leather. Or that I never did get one bit of cold air to come out of the AC vents. At the end of the time I had it, I'd begun to take it to a local repair shop rather than to the Land Rover dealership. It was never quite tuned as it should have been. I blamed it on the degrading condition of the vehicle. In fact, it was that the service it was receiving was out of tune with what it needed.
I sold the Rover on a day that my partner Kirk was out of town on a business trip. I knew he'd be thrilled that it was gone. And that I'd feel the relief of knowing some one else had to care for it. A father and son drafted a check and drove it off. They did this despite the fact that I'd had to jump start it. I remember the phone call from the gas station around the corner. They'd pulled in to get gas for their long trip home. The son had turned the engine off. It had not yet fully charged. So the electronically controlled gas tank lid would not open. And the car wouldn't start without a jump even if they overcame all of the obstacles that awaited them. When I was talking to the son, I heard the father shout commands to him. And then the mobile phone line went dead. I decided that I would delete the son's phone number from my log. I was having trouble resisting the temptation to get involved. But I couldn't tutor them through the 40 or 50 miles home, nor through cold mornings and tire changes. I closed my heart and mind at that very moment. Not so much to the father and son, but to the Rover.
And today, walking home in the rain, my heart ached for the old thing. I wish I'd just enjoyed it while I had it. I do love my Subaru Legacy 2.5 Limited wagon and my partner's Lexus IS250 AWD. They're great companions, come hill or high water. I miss the fallen, old Lady Land Rover almost as much as I admire the fit, finish, and gem-like engineering of the two cars that fill our garage now.