I was 17 when my grandpa died, and I’ll never forget that day. My mom, who usually worked nights, gathered my sisters and me after school to tell us the news.
My grandpa was 82 when he passed, but thankfully, he didn’t suffer. He loved vintage cars, and he’d take me to car shows, sparking my passion for engines. He couldn’t afford many vintage cars, but he had one that he cared for deeply.
Every weekend, my mom dropped me off to help him with it. I cherished those weekends with Grandpa, even if it was more for my mom’s convenience. We had so much fun together, whether it was accidentally spilling oil or scratching the paint on his Chevy Bel Air.
But the best part was the candy he kept in the ashtray. He never smoked, so he filled it with candy instead, always looking out for me.
My grandpa’s love for cars and the time we spent together shaped who I am today. I became an engineer because of him, grateful for the memories and lessons he gave me.
