Before I Forget

One of Franklin and Eleanor's sons, Franklin junior went into various businesses and had at one point the north eastern United States franchise to sell Fiat cars. Franklin junior had often taken note of the success that his brother, John had in making suggestions to their mother and thought he might give it a try. He had visions of his mother driving a Fiat and the wonderful advertising value that would have. He also knew, however, how carefully his mother considered any suggestion because of the political statement it might advocate. He hoped that owning a Fiat might be different.

At lunch by the pool one August day, Franklin said to his mother, "I have heard you talk about a new car, mummy, and I'm sure you would like a Fiat."

"Franklin, dear, I don't really need a new car just now and if I get one I would like to get a convertible. You know I enjoy driving a convertible here in the country but I fear your Italian company doesn't make the style of car I'm thinking of."

"Oh, there's where you're wrong, mummy! They make a wonderful sports car! You'd love it! It's easy to drive and holds the road and it's a convertible. Just what you want! I can take you to see one this very afternoon. There's a showroom in Poughkeepsie. I'll give them a call and we can go right down."

An immediate chorus of voices around the lunch tables insisted they would like to join the group going to see the Fiat. Aunt Eleanor looked seriously at Franklin. "Tubby must come along too. I must make sure Tubby and I will both like the car." (Tubby was aunt Eleanor's chauffeur, a retired truck driver who weighed three hundred pounds). "Fine," said Franklin, as he looked in some dismay at half the lunch party which intended to follow him to Poughkeepsie.

A caravan of several cars parked just outside the Fiat Showroom where a diminutive, red, foreign, sports car stood sparkling in the sun. The top was down. It looked ready for a spin. Aunt Eleanor approached it thoughtfully and opened the door on the passenger's side. She managed to fold her tall figure into the bucket seat. Then it was Tubby's turn. He obviously relished the idea of driving such a vehicle and tried to make himself smaller for the occasion. He opened the driver's door with a flourish and slid his bulk behind the wheel. Success! They were invited to take a test drive and disappeared into the confusion of Poughkeepsie while we speculated on the outcome of the excursion.

Three weeks later the Episcopal Church in Hyde Park was holding its usual Sunday service. As was the norm, the Hudson Valley matriarchs were arriving for church in a line of gray, four door sedans, each driven by a uniformed chauffeur who would open the automobile door and assist the madam of the house to the pavement. Just then Tubby sailed his craft into the parking lot. The top was down on the Fiat, Aunt Eleanor was holding on to her hat in her lap. Tubby let Mrs. R. get out by herself as she always insisted on, waved at her and sped off saying "So long, I'll be back."