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Harold's Last Drive

An old Cadillac rolls through all four stop signs along River Road without slowing down. No one is in much danger, Harold Pinter never drives faster than 15 kilometers per hour and even the residents of nearby Sunnyvale Seniors' Home are fast enough to get out of his way. Everyone assumes it is Harold doing the driving, just like on every other Sunday for the past 25 years; although at first glance it appears no one is at the helm of the land schooner.

Closer inspection reveals a tuft of grey hair barely visible above the dashboard and a pair of gnarled hands clenched tight on the large steering wheel. Harold is not just short, he is tiny, dwarfed by all but the very youngest of his great grandchildren, and this is his last independent drive. Harold is cruising, like the good old days, and he waves at the ladies as he goes by, a confident hand held high. Tomorrow, Harold will celebrate his 85th birthday. His driver's license is not getting renewed and grandson Peter has called dibs on the car. But that is tomorrow, for one more day, Harold drives.

Story by:

Hermine (Minkee) Robinson

20 May 2014