Leaving Bar Harbor

Grandpa and I talked a lot about following one's heart. He told me that if I didn't feel like I should leave, then that was a good decision. I also called home and told my parents what I had decided. It was strange because up until I told the personnel person "no," I didn't know what I was going to say ...

I really did have work to finish in Vestaburg. I felt like I had impacted some students and that they were buying into the program, moving forward with some new ideas. We were going to become techno–savvy and be a leader. I explained all of this to Grandpa and seemed interested. Looking back, he probably didn't really follow all of the computer talk and references to PageMaker and all, but he listened and commented.

We talked about all kinds of stuff. He told me about opening Morgan's Service in the early '30s when he was—GULP—16 years old. He explained that things weren't always easy. He told me it took years to gain the reputation that he enjoyed. I figured that he always had been known as an honest man. It wasn't until I was older that I understood just how crazy it must have been for a 16–year–old to be running a service station.

He told me about meeting his future wife, my Grandma, Dora. If I remember correctly, there was a group of four on a double–date and Grandpa kind of liked Dora more than the girl he was on the date with. The rest, apparently, is history.

It's funny looking back because I remember the trip out clearly and hanging out in Bar Harbor, but I don't remember a great deal about the trip home. We had a great time. I was hoping we would be able to do this again.

One other aspect of the trip was when we visited a classic car dealership. Grandpa fell in love with an old Chrysler. I believe it was a '67 Chrysler Imperial. He explained that he had one just like it—new—back in the '60s. He really liked the car. I do remember talking about it on the way home. It was a good time.

During the next year, I visited Grandpa once in a while and he invited me to go to Bar Harbor again in August. We talked about what we would do, where else we would visit, etc. He told me we would head out to the Gaspe Peninsula in Canada on the way out. He had a serious plan for the 1997 trip.

We were in Clarkston, getting ready to go. We had done some grocery shopping and were getting all set for a week on the East Coast. We were at the corner of Dixie Highway and M–15 in Clarkston. You know the place, where there used to be a Boron Station. Anyway, Grandpa looked at me and said, "Rick, you remember that Imperial we looked at last summer? I wonder if it's still there ..."


This is the sequel to the original story, originally posted here.