The Summer of Max (continued)
Thursday afternoon was the final showing of Mad Max:Fury Road at the cheap theater. I drove up to see it on a big screen one more time, and I didn't care that it was yet another two hours on the road. As I was driving west on the interstate, I kept seeing street rods heading east. One after another. Chevys, Fords, roadsters, and coupes. Then I remembered that the Evansville Frog Follies were this weekend. A car show that started small, and a show that my family went to every year along with members of Dad's car circle, and now a car show that has around 6,000 cars every year. Then, as I was just a little way from home, I saw a State Trooper who had a car pulled over. The car number was 13-31; that was Dad's number during his career. I smiled (and cried a little) because I'm sure that Dad was saying 'hi' and heading with me to see the movie one more time.
That viewing made it twenty-three times; twenty-three times that I drove to see it (every time was at least an hour away). It made me feel hope. It made me happy.
That viewing made it twenty-three times; twenty-three times that I drove to see it (every time was at least an hour away). It made me feel hope. It made me happy.