It sat inside a shed, unseen by mostand unprotected from the elements.
The paint had oxidized, the battery
was gone and so the owner never worried
that someone would steal what he himself
had no desire to use, repair, restore to greatness.
Late one afternoon, though, someone walking
by the property was lost in thought when
suddenly he glimpsed it there between
the house and trees, and almost gasped.
Such elegance, the sleekness of the lines
that told someone with knowledge that
this was a prize, a treasure! He approached
the house and rang the bell, inquired if
what he'd seen might be for sale. "It's of no use,"
the owner said, surprised,"too costly, too much
trouble, doesn't run and never will, as far as I'm\
concerned." Explaining that the car had been there
for so long, had been there when he bought the house,
he simply hadn't had the time or money or the inclination
to have the heap towed off for scrap. He wondered
at the interest of the man who'd stopped to ask.
It made him suddenly suspicious that a person
would place value on an object that he'd treated
with neglect, indifference, and contempt.
"Would you let me buy it?" asked the stranger, handing
out much more, the owner thought, than such a
wreck was worth. He managed to suppress a smile
and nodded when the stranger asked if he would let him
leave it in the shed until he'd finished working, even if
it took some time. And when the day arrived, the
proud new owner drove the car out of the shed,
the sunshine gleaming from its hood, the classic ornament
now polished, every piston oiled, the engine cleaned,
the seats as spotless as they'd ever been, the man
who hadn't had the vision shook his head, and wished
that he had recognized the treasure that he'd had.
He wasn't angry, though,or even sad, because now he had
an empty shed,and that was what he'd wanted all along.
(c) Ellen Gillette 2019
