Number Twenty-Two

“Come on, let’s get these numbers made.”
“Okay, Dad!”
He was many things:
Airline pilot, artist, lover of jazz
He also raced a sports car for fun
His treasured robin’s eye blue MGA twin-cam.

His number was twenty-two
The boy loved helping him
White numbers traced with a cardboard template onto sticky back paper
Then carefully cut out
And placed conscientiously on the side doors, trunk and hood
Wow! Did that race car ever look sharp!
His dad raced the MG on Sundays in the summer
Sometimes afterward he’d take the boy with him for a ride around the track
Gunning the engine
Leaning into the turns
Shifting through the gears
It was more than a race car then
Speeding around those long-ago corners
Flying like the wind down the straightaway
A boy and his dad and that spiffy car
Side by side in their joy
A moment in time of shared togetherness
Too swiftly gone.