The good old days of live chatting


We love our cellphones, can’t live without Internet, FaceChat, Netflix, and big screen TV sets. Excuse us while we check our Snap-a-Grams again, and update our personal profiles for all our less-than-personal TweetBook friends.

 

“But wait! Why don’t we do something different tonight? Something that doesn’t involve screens, messaging, or ‘checking in’ at local restaurants we frequent just because they offer free WiFi?”

 

Hmmmmm. What did you have in mind?

 

“I don’t know. Maybe we could…talk?”

 

We talk all the time, through texting, the most. Have you ever thought about updating your InnerTube Channel with a video post?

 

“No. I mean face-to-face talk. About anything – the future, politics. About sharing special memories, like what kind of books are important to us, or cars we used to drive when we were younger, when calling home cost only a dime at any phone booth scattered across town.”

 

Cars, you say? Well, I remember I was in luck that you really liked my red Chevy Luv pickup truck. And you drove a Rambler, vintage and white. Looking somewhat like an old Mercedes Benz, if I remember right.

 

“You do! And do you also remember I drove that thing until it was falling apart? My father would fix it and fix it – sometimes with actual car parts and sometimes with baling wire – until it could be fixed no more. And then he bought me a Honda Civic, stick shift and clutch, that I had a hard time learning to drive. Until you taught me.”

 

That’s right. And the only reason I was good at stick shift was because I learned at night – driving a Ford F-150 in the middle of the school parking lot. My dad showed me how. I really made that thing buck a lot.

 

“Really? I thought the only pickup truck you drove was that little Chevy Luv.”

 

You learn something new, each and every day. But soon that old Ford was passed down to my brother, and gave way to a car I can barely remember. What kind it was, I can’t say. All I know is it was yellow with an engine that made it go a little too fast. It was probably because of that one small detail, it didn’t long last.

 

“Before the Rambler, I learned to drive a 1978 Chevrolet Caprice Classic. But the car I loved the most was my family’s 1957 blue and white Chevy Bel Air. To this day I can still remember what it felt like – what it smelled like – to be inside that car. Good memories, for sure.”

 

Good memories, for sure.

 

“And after the yellow car that I guess your parents thought was a wee bit too ‘lively’ for you, what did that lead to?”

 

A white Buick Regal, two-door, with a moon roof. Unfortunately, I don’t have photos of it, so I can show you no proof. But that was the car that turned into the Luv – the vehicle I was driving when we became friends, then fell in love.

 

“After that was another Honda Civic, a Renault, a Peugeot, a Dodge minivan for the family, and away we did go. Followed by a Neon, a Cavalier and a Jeep for our girl. Then you bought a motorcycle and went on a whirl around the country, leaving me to drive that horrific Chrysler dry-heave thing. And now we own Toyotas. I wonder what tomorrow will bring?”

 

There’s no telling. But maybe we can do this again – turn off the electronics and talk about stuff. Maybe trips we can go on, or the history of forks and spoons. Maybe even decorative dishes.

 

“Oh, you smooth talker. That sounds really great. Tomorrow, it is. We’ll make it a date.”

 

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