The Red Ferrari

The red Ferrari came to rest on its top at the base of a large cone-shaped pile of rubble. One wheel is missing and its body is dented and dirt-caked. I watch it spin momentarily before coming to a stop, as it becomes partially buried in the damp earth. The headlights are gone and the windows are merely openings that let debris roll into its sleek interior. More dirt slides past it and then broken bricks start tumbling down the growing pile, barely missing the expensive sports car. The roar of the near-by Cat pulls my attention as the machine leaps forward, sinking its steel teeth into the soft clayey soil. It belches dark gray clouds in satisfaction, and raises another bucket from the gaping wound, reddish bricks falling from its fangs, as it dumps another heaping mouthful onto the jagged pile. I turn back to look for the Ferrari, yes, it’s still there, but barely, only a bright red fender gleaming in the warm morning sun remains visible.

Quickly, I approach the car, kneel and pluck it from certain burial.  Rubbing my thumbs gently across its smooth body to remove the crusted soil, I uncover a trace of nostalgia. Matchbox cars were extremely popular with boys during the 1960s and 1970s. I turn the miniature vehicle in my hand to examine it more closely; perhaps, I had this model; it looks familiar. Maybe the former owner of this red Ferrari sat cross-legged on the side of Templeton Street, just as I sat cross-legged at the side of my street, so many years ago. Did we both make tiny racetracks at the dusty roadside, pretending not to hear our mother’s call for lunch on a hot humid midsummer’s day? The faint sound of running boy feet, muffled by emerald grass, leaps across time and distance.

I wave to Chris sitting astride his roaring beast and he good-naturedly returns the gesture, no doubt wondering why I’m wearing a dopey grin. Chris continues excavation for the basement of the new Habitat home that will soon occupy this shady lot. He methodically deposits a set of broken concrete steps on the large pile of ruins. Human beings connect with each other in many ways; sadly, most are now intangible electronic bits. Shortly, children will laugh and play again at 2509 Templeton. They will explore their new home and race through their yard and neighborhood. Perhaps, one will pause for breath next to the old elm stump, near the backyard fence, and there find the red Ferrari.

dan