Ben and His Beautiful Blue Corvette

An unexpected meeting

We met at the Sunoco station when our cars were being serviced. I was already settled in the waiting area when he pulled in in his immaculate, stunning, gorgeous shade of blue Corvette. The mechanic pulled it into the bay before my non-immaculate, body work needing Subaru.

It was as if the Corvette added extra light to the station, the “rare Laguna blue” color, so I have since read. The owner seemed to add light, too, as he came into the waiting spot.

He was “very fit for his age.” Isn’t that a phrase people like to use (and one that is critiqued in anti-ageism conversation)? Like his very fit car. The two are clearly a pairing, like good wines and food. I am more like my car that needs a bit of body work.

Introductions and getting to know each other

Perhaps that did not matter though, for after a few minutes scrolling on his phone, he looked over with a smile and said, “Hi, I’m Ben.” I said, “Hi, Ben. I’m Dawn.”

And from there the conversation flowed with ease, and he was easy to look at.

He likes fishing of all kinds and the previous weekend had driven back country roads between PA and NY, relishing the lack of traffic that made for exhilaration and acceleration with that gorgeous car. 

I told him stories of my dad loving to fly fish. We realized they had been to some of the same streams in NY, as well as deep sea fishing. I asked if he had ever been to Mohonk Mountain House. He said no, that he will look it up.

His enjoyment of baseball and basketball came up next. I did not have as much to say about those.

We talked about how he does not take the Corvette out that often in town. I know when I see a blue Corvette, though, that it will be Ben because I have never seen that color blue before. I only see red, silver or black Corvettes. My eyes will be scanning.

Atlanta stories

I told him that when I lived in Atlanta there was a day when I saw three red Corvettes in a row, and he laughed because I said that each time I see a red one I think there must be some kind of message. I don’t know why. I just do, like three red ones in a row were trying to tell me something those years ago. I’m still waiting to find out what it was but every time I see a red Corvette I comment out loud.

I also told him that on my way to work on the side streets of Atlanta there was a guy who would pull out of his driveway in his Lamborghini, wishing for the wide-open spaces, I was sure, but only able to enjoy acceleration for a few yards before the red light. Ben laughed because he knows exactly what that feels like.

Deeper conversation

As conversation continued, I asked permission to ask him a couple of questions. He said sure. His phone had long been tucked away, as was mine. I wondered if the manager of the station was eavesdropping.

Two people talking with no phones in sight, looking at each other the whole time. Imagine.

Presence. Kairos time even in a Sunoco station on a very busy street and all the sounds of car stuff going on in the garage. No rings, no pings, just silence.

We talked a bit about not loving social media, that he’s on it but does not use it a lot. I said, “Me, too.” He did not ask to friend me on Facebook.

I wanted to take advantage of the moment to glean a little information for things I am musing about and for which I am creating/polishing some writing and presentations, one in its infancy stage.

I did not beat around the bush.

“Have you completed creating a will and legal documents?”

“Well, I have some things in order, but I have not done a will yet. I think I probably should do that.”

I said, “Yes.”

Ah, Ben, you could be my son

He then said, “Well, both sets of parents have completed all their legal documents.”

He volunteered that he is also still married to his wife, “which is something,” he added. And that they both genuinely enjoy being with both sets of their parents, for which he feels fortunate.

The grandparents feel the same and relish coming to the games of his 9- and 10-year-old sons, some of which he coaches.

We started talking about what it is like to be the generation in the middle, raising children and having elder parents. That conversation contributed to my project that is in its infancy.

Ah, but then…I was sorry to see the beautiful blue Corvette being backed out of the garage bay.

As he stood up, he looked at me and said, “It was really great to talk with you while we’ve been waiting. Thank you.”

I watched him pay his bill, wished him good fishing on his way out the door, observed him climb into his beautiful blue Corvette and roar away on the street, a moment of exhilaration while free of traffic and before the red light I knew was just ahead.

The joy of intergenerational connections and conversations

This is the thing. I thrive on intergenerational conversations. I want to always be where there is a variety of ages and stages, to engage, to listen, to hear, to encourage, to affirm, to admire, to share and to be inspired.

It was the same when I was a young child. I always wanted to be with the older people.

It was the same when I was a younger adult. I wanted to be the one in the middle, interacting with those on both sides of my age.

Now I am at the older part, the elder part, and nothing has changed. Let me be around all ages 1 – 100+.

We have so much to share. It does not have to be big or important or brilliant, though sometimes it is.

Most of all it is presence and connection and finding out how much we have in common as well as how much we can bring one another into new perspectives and experiences.

For me, nothing replaces the face to face, eye to eye presence, always grateful.

Still musing about our intergenerational joyful conversation at the Sunoco station, I will be looking for Ben and his beautiful blue Corvette, though I know it is not taken out very often.

I didn’t think to ask if he was also getting his inspection done. If so, it means our birthdays are in the same month. I’ll ask him if I run into him again just because it would be nice to know.

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