MTFCA Forum

I was attending a car-show with my 1915 Model T Ford on a hot August day—I mean like around 101 degrees—HOT. After four hours of shooting photos of people posing in the old car and giving rides, I was over-heated and exhausted. Now, with the show starting to break up, I was not especially looking forward to wrestling the engine to life with a hand-crank, so I took a break and sat on the running-board, resting with my eyes closed. Then I heard a tiny little voice say, “Are yoooou Santa Claus?” I opened my eyes to see an image of Shirley Temple. I mean, she was about four years old, had the curly hair, the big, wide-open blue eyes—and believe it or not, a great big lollipop. Her parents were standing behind, smiling.
.
Not realizing that the little girl had been fooled by my longish beard and red shirt, I was momentarily taken aback, but recovered, figured it out, grinned, and in my deepest baritone, said, “Well, bless my ears and whiskers! I wasn’t expecting to see YOU until Christmas!
.
Oh, the kid just about jumped for joy, which was something I definitely was not expecting—but not knowing what else to do, I continued, “So, tell me, have you been good all year long?”
“Oh, yes, Santa! I’ve been very, VERY good!”
.
Now, on the way to the show, I happened to have stopped at the local CVS for a bottle of cold water, and along with that came the store’s usual, ridiculously long receipt, which was now in my pocket. I said, “Well, you know I always check my list twice, so let’s see what we have here…” and I took the receipt from my pocket and let one end of it blow in the breeze. Then I perched my wire-rimmed reading glasses on the tip of my nose, looked the receipt up and down its length, peered at her over the tops of my lenses, pointed at the receipt and said, “Well, look at that! THERE you are, right at the TOP! And yes, it DOES appear that you’ve been very good, indeed! I mean, not everybody gets to make it to the very TOP of my list!”
.
This happy silliness went on for a little while longer and concluded with the little girl reminding me that although her house had a chimney, there was no fireplace. I replied that I would just use my magic key to open the front door, same as last year, and I showed her the Model T Ford’s unusual looking ignition key. Then, when she said that she and her Mommy would bake cookies for me and leave them on a plate on the kitchen table, this crusty old grouch actually shed a tear—which he surreptitiously wiped away with a thumbnail while removing his reading glasses.
.
I had crossed an age threshold whereby it can feel like all of a man’s significant accomplishments are in his rear-view mirror, and life becomes a matter of… well, just running out the clock. This chance encounter changed that. Right then and there, I knew I had to do this. I would become Santa Claus—or one of them—and with that, perhaps the mark I’d leave behind on this Earth would have nothing to do with tires.

BOB, GREAT story. I wish I was as quick witted as you were/are..I believe age is having it's way with me. If I ever get out your way, I would like to be one of your elves.

Terry

It was once said that the four stages of a man's life are:

You believe in Santa Claus-
You don't believe in Santa Claus-
You are Santa Claus-
You look like Santa Claus.

You made a lifetime memory for that little girl, and her family. It's folks like you, Bob, that make this place a little better.

Merry Christmas.

Mike.

I needed to hear a good story.
Thank you.

Great story! That is the true Spirit of the holidays!