No Regrets

Several years ago as we were talking over breakfast on our anniversary, the topic came up of regrets. Someone had used the phrase, "I'll always regret that...." and it had triggered a conversation about life's regrets. Hubby looked at me and wondered aloud if I had any "regrets". I thought for a minute and said, "Only one."

The one that popped into my mind was selling my little red MGA. The year before we married I had fallen in love with a little red 1960 MGA convertible at the local car dealer. .(Think the little red car that Elvis drove in Blue Hawaii). My parents, who were doing well to keep me in college, were having nothing to do with the idea that this would be the perfect car. An aunt took pity on my pleas and helped me get the car, with the stipulation that I pay her back as soon as I graduated and got a job.

The little red car ferried me to and from school and was the envy of all my friends and most of the fraternity population. I loved that car. The heater was just a vent straight off the motor and burned your feet up all summer, you had to lug the top up by hand, usually standing in the seat, the windows leaked, it had only a tiny trunk, and blew your hair into knots but I loved driving it.

After graduation we moved to a little town and I started teaching. My first paychecks went to pay my aunt back, as promised. Life was good. I loved teaching and even though I was barely older than my high school students felt I was effective. Then came the day when I realized that my high school boys were waiting for me every morning at my parking place. My first thought was "how nice" then it hit me why they were waiting. I was sitting in my little car, practically flat on the ground. In order to get out, I had to lift my knees and swing out my legs. In those days, teachers had to wear skirts, and in the '70's they weren't very long. So there I sat in my little red car totally unable to get out without giving my students a peep-show!! Eventually, with much twisting, I managed to get into the building, but I knew I had a problem. After much discussion we decided that we had to trade the little red car in on something more respectable.

Years later, my regret was that instead of trading it in, we hadn't kept it. We got almost nothing for it and it would have been such fun to have around now. After laughing about the story, I forgot all about the conversation.

Then, a few years later, Bob surprised me with a gift to celebrate the end of my cancer treatments. Sitting in my drive was a red 1960 MGA, just like the one we sold. He hugged me and handed me the key. "You said once you only had one regret in life. I don't want you to have any. Here's to a life without regrets."

Wow!