So, flash back with me to the Sunday following my 12th (I think) birthday. Church was over for the day, and my family was just hanging out enjoying a leisurely Sunday afternoon. Suddenly, I hear a car horn honk in the driveway. "I think that's for you, Pippi," my mom said. I ran to the door, peeked out, and there in my driveway sat the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen... a Porsche 911 Carrera.
"Hop in, little one, let's go for a ride," said the gentleman standing there, holding the car door open for me.
"Can we go fast?" was my intelligent response.
"Of course we can, what do you think Porsche's are for?" he replied with a chuckle.
I climbed into the car, barely containing my excitement. The car looked, felt, even smelled like luxury. The gentleman got behind the wheel, and we were off. We purred our way through the streets of Holladay until we reached Van Winkle Expressway. "Rule number one of this trip," he said to me as we pulled up to a red light, "You can't tell your mom and dad the numbers you see on the speedometer." The light turned green, and we were off. I watched the needle climb higher, and higher, and higher. I felt like I was flying. I grinned so hard that tears came to my eyes. "Rule number two of this trip," he said with a smile, "Forget that it's Sunday while I stop for some gas." Oh yes, did I mention that this lovely gentleman was in my bishopbric?
An hour later he returned me to my home a changed girl. He'd given me my very first taste of "rich". I liked it. But more than that, he gave me a birthday that will live on in my memory forever.
I will never forget that day as long as I live. I will never forget the kindness of that man for making my every 12-year-old wish come true. I will never forget the impressions he made on me that day. I will never forget...
2 comments:
Very cool!
that is an interesting and fun way to blog about someone who has passed away. you are a good writer.
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