It’s old. It has a few dents and lots of kilometres. But it’s mine.

That is the song my almost-man boy is singing today. Because yesterday he bought his first car.

An older gentleman who can no longer drive was selling his 1989 Pontiac something-or-other. Tyson and his dad checked it out, and decided it was worth the five hundred dollar price tag. We chatted about it over supper. Lyndon offered to pay half the price, but Tyson said he wanted to buy it himself. He wanted it to be bought and and paid for, free and clear, with money he had earned himself. So, we drove into town last night and Lyndon and I waited in our vehicle while Tyson went in and did the car deal himself. He came out with the keys, and a big smile on his face. Alphonse, the man he bought it from, hobbled out in the rain to see Tyson off. Sweet to see my boy shake Alphonse’s hand and thank him. A passing-of-the-torch kind of moment.

Oh my goodness. My baby bought a car.

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