So I fixed her up again. This time with the help of my Dad. It took nearly an entire year to get her up and running back in respectable condition. I did end up driving around a cheap beater. Turns out my sister had finally saved up enough to get a new car, so during my senior year, I found myself in a 1986 Ford Tempo with duck taped bumpers, named Earl. Yes, I named him Earl. Every car should have a name. I'm not ashamed to say, that after I finished Baby, as a thank you to Earl for his service and reliability, I fixed him up and found him a good home with a cute 16 year old girl named Emily. It was her first car, and I offered to do all the upkeep on him myself.

So here's how the rest of it went. I graduated, of course, and enrolled in community college, getting my certificates in auto mechanics, and an AS in business management. I apprenticed for a few years with an established mechanic, then worked for him for a few more, before tracking down Mr. Albert Combs, and begging on hands and knees (after seeing the Darth Vader pencil holder on his desk), "Let me be your Padawan, Jedi Master." After all, I argued, once his laughter died down, "us nerds gotta stick together."

The year I turned 23, I married Emily, and promptly we began to populate the planet. Welcoming my first born son, Nolan a year later, and then Levi two years after that. The year I turned 36, I opened my own Classic Car Restoration and Repair.

I'm sure you're thinking that I passed down Baby and my business to one of my sons, and you would be so wrong, because, let me tell you, I finally understood, as I entered my forties, what my Dad meant when he said to me, "what ever the hell you were..." because I seriously began to wonder what genetic makeup those two had.

When Nolan turned fifteen, and I said, "Let's go, I'll teach you how to drive Baby." He launched into a lecture about fossil fuels, environmental dangers, and gas guzzling, antiquated, titanic monstrosities. So, I told him the only thing I could. "You are no longer my son."

Two years later I did the same with Levi. He didn't even bother to give me a reason. He just arched his eyebrow at me and said, "No, Dad."

"But I was going to leave her to you."

"No."

"She's your legacy."

"No."

"LEGACY."

"No."

I would have disowned him as well, but it hadn't worked with Nolan. Bastard was still living in my house. Something about "parental obligation." Whatever.

Now, as it so happens, The year Levi turned 15, Emily announced, bouncing into the kitchen, like she was 21 again, "I'm pregnant! Isn't it wonderful!" While Emily saw rainbows and lollipops, I saw my retirement being flushed down the toilet. I did not, however, because I am not stupid and do indeed value my life, mention this.

Several months later, I sat in bed, completely dejected about the prospect of having no son to pass Baby onto. What would happen to her? Images of her being sold to one of those wealthy collectors who would lock her up in a pristine garage and take her out only in the summer to those Fourth of July car shows plagued my dreams at night. It made me sick. Emily rubbed my back, and reassured me. "Look at it his way, Nikki. You got one more chance." She rubbed her belly. "You better brainwash this one real good."

I was somewhat comforted... Until three months later as I stood, holding a squirming, screeching ball of estrogen, and all my hopes left me. I'm not saying that to be sexist. In all my life, I have met only a handful of females that wanted anything to do with cars, and after the monumental failure that was my male offspring, I had very little hope for Lexi.

My hope was restored, the year Lexi turned five. I was out in my driveway, giving Baby her bi-annual tune up, and Lexi was playing on the grass, with her baby doll when I heard her gasp.

"Oh no, Sammy," she said to her doll. She got up and ran over to me. "Baby has a smudge." Lexi used the hem of her shirt to buff away whatever it was she thought she saw – because just for reference, Baby does not smudge. I smiled down at her.

"Sammy, huh. Short for Samantha?" Finding humor in the name she picked for the doll. I had told her the tales and adventures of Dean Winchester traveling across America with his brother Sammy several times. I modeled their adventures after Scooby-Doo. They were her favorite bedtime stories.

"No Daddy. Don't be silly. Sammy's a boy."

I eyed the dolls pink overalls, and long brown hair. "Looks like a girl to me."

Lexi held the doll out from her body, and tilted her head left, then right, then sighed, heavily. "I told you Sammy. You need to get a hair cut, or people were gonna start thinking you're a girl."

I burst out laughing, and was rewarded with a wide smile. "Can I help you fix Baby, Daddy?"

"Sure thing." I lifted her up, and set her on the edge of the car. She leaned over, and observed in silence for a few minutes. Then began asking questions.

"Whats that do? Where does that go? Whats that called? Can I hold that for you? Can I pull that out? Can I put that in? Can I drive Baby when I grow up?"

"Connects the spark plug to the engine. Inside that hole I just took the other one out of. That's the spark plug. No, you don't wanna get grease on your shirt. Yeah, here let me help you with the box. Okay, but let me help, it needs a bit of a strong... okay, maybe not. Good job." It was the last question that stopped me, because I couldn't even begin to tell you how long I had been dying to hear those words from my progeny. "Yeah, sweet heart of course. And I'll tell you what. You help me keep Baby in tip top shape, and when you grow up big like me, you can have Baby if you want her."

"Really!?" Lexi bounced up off the car, and wrapped her arms around me. "Thank you Daddy, thank you, thank you, thank you." She plastered kisses across my checks, then pulled back and smiled at me. I grinned so wide, it hurt my cheeks, because her ecstatically joyful green eyes, and the pale freckles that dusted her nose and cheeks had to be the most beautiful thing on the planet. Even more beautiful than Baby. That – That, right there, was the happiest day of my life.

So I kept my promise, and on the day Lexi graduated college (Mechanical Engineering, thank you very much), I presented her with the key to the Impala, and much like she did when she was five years old, Lexi bounced up and down, then threw her arms around me, chanting, "Thank you, Daddy" over and over, before bounding to Baby and sliding behind the wheel.

Travis, her boyfriend at the time, slid into the passenger seat, as Lexi turned the ignition. Of course Baby rumbled to life like the force that she was, and "Back in Black" poured from the speakers. (I totally planned it that way.)

A smile spread across her face, until Travis said, "Come on, babe, not this crap," and actually had the balls to lean over and try to turn the radio off. Lexi smacked his hand, her smile gone, and pointed her finger at him, a glare in her eyes that made me take a step back. "Driver picks the music. Shot gun shuts their cake hole!"

Now Travis wasn't a bad guy, hell, he ended up marrying Lexi. He just needed to learn one cardinal lesson. No one screws with Baby.

So there you have it. No, I didn't pass the business on to Lexi, that went to my best mechanic, who loved that shop as much as I did. Lexi got Baby, and at least for one more generation, she stayed on the road, crisscrossing America on family road trips, holiday excursions, and Sunday drives.

That day, when Lexi pulled out of the driveway, I thought about Dean, and the words he wrote in that letter, so many years before.

Here's the point. Baby is the most awesome and magnificent car on earth. She was meant to be on the roads. She was meant to be driven. If you take car of her and love her, she will take care of and love you. She will be there for you for the next 30 years, like she has always been there for me.

I watched, as Lexi stretched her arm out the window, catching the breeze in her hand, bobbing her head to the music, a blissful smile on her face. I couldn't help but think that finally... Finally, they were home.

Yay. All done. Review and help improve!