Weekly Roundup: Carolina In My Mind Edition

I looked forward to the wings. Every time we flew down to the house in Clearwater, some impossibly beautiful woman would pin a set of Eastern junior pilot wings on me. The flight seemed to take forever but it was also over almost immediately; I can't explain. Then Granddad would be there at the gate and we would walk out to his impeccable Cutlass or Eldorado and we would take the causeway to his house with the wrought-iron "B" on the gates.

The air smelled different, like gecko lizards and sand and palm trees. For three or four days I was granted a temporary reprieve from reality, my infinitely patient grandfather taking me to the beach and the country club and the pool. It was hard to go to sleep every night. Sometimes I'd stay up all night and read the hilariously age-inappropriate paperbacks that littered the guest room.

No wings for my son; instead of flying Eastern to Clearwater we drove the Accord to Hilton Head. But the rest of it I think I can see through his eyes and it looks like what I remember.

Thirty-seven years have passed but nothing has changed. My father has become my grandfather, kind and patient with John. Still the same humid air. I left a new copper Foreverspin top out on the kitchen counter for two nights and it now has a deep patina. The new Eldorado has become a new E350, chrome edges on the Sport aerokit a sort of accidental tribute to the Biarritz stainless roof. Dad drives it with the same genial distracted quality I remember from my grandfather.

There is a beach, too. I drove there alone, before dawn this morning. Sat out in the sand, waiting for the sun. Truthfully I'd prefer to be at Clearwater Beach, with its deep expanse of sand and the placid Gulf and the infinite armies of perfect teenagers, but this is the beach my son will remember.

Tonight I explained to John that he has just two days left here. He made a sort of keening noise and threw himself onto his bed. This, too, is familiar. I never wanted to go home, either. I still do not. Tomorrow I will take him to the beach for the last time. We all have places that we need to go next. But to see the happiness in his face makes my memories feel true again. Even if they are not.

And the seasons they go round and round And the painted ponies go up and down We're captive on the carousel of time We can't return we can only look behind From where we came And go round and round and round In the circle game

Alright, let's step off this carousel and see what Bark and I got done this week.

My brother contributed another installment of the insanely popular Ask Bark and the second half of his series on dealership business.

For R&T, I quoted the Apostle Paul and recalled an unsavory seller.

I used Dad's plantation as a backdrop for an Accord long-term update and I offered an opinion about what VW should do next.

Next week both Bark and I will be sharing our impressions of what is likely to be the most interesting new car we'll drive this year. Stick around for it.