The Mustang

The garage door went up and then went down. The 43-year-old man sat in his old car, unable to muster the strength to unlock its door and head inside.  It had been a terrible day at work. How could explain what had happened to his wife. To his kids? They deserved better than him. Maybe he could just spend the night in the car.  Maybe no one heard the door and would notice the car in the garage.  Maybe he needed to man-up and go inside. No, he would stew in his failure for a few minutes longer.

He looked over at the old 1970 Mustang sitting next to his 1999 Buick.  It had been his high school car and now sat in dusty disrepair. (like so many other things in his life.)  He got out of his Buick and quietly walked around to the driver’s side door. He opened it and sat down, putting his hands on the big steering wheel. He took a deep breath and smelled the familiar musty smell.  He closed his eyes for a moment and remembered all the good times he had had in it. Life had been so simple back them.  God, he wished he could go back twenty five years.

God listens to random requests and occasionally grants them.  The windshield got blurry and then the man felt nauseous. The world went black. He had passed out.

He woke up in his car in his high school’s parking lot.  “What. The. Heck?” he thought as he looked around. There wasn’t a car newer than a 1986 model in the parking lot.  He quickly got out of Mustang and took cover behind the trees. Kids were coming out starting to get in their cars.  He saw himself coming out of the building. “Man I was thin. And look at all that hair!” he thought.  Then he had an idea.  “Maybe, just maybe….”

The teenaged version of himself sat down quickly in driver’s seat. He looked around quickly and scream, “ARGGGGGHHHH!!!! WHO ARE YOU?”

“You.”

The teenaged version of the man tried to take a swing at his older counterpart, but the older man blocked the punch. “I knew you’d do that.”

“HELP!!!!”

No one heard him.

“Let me say this slowly, I’m you. I’m 25-years-older, but I’m you.”

The teenager turned pale.

“You know that scar on your arm from when you went through the sliding-glass door?” The man lifted his sleeve and there it was.

“What happened to my hair?”

“Baldness happens.”

“And why did you let me get so fat?”

“Well, that’s one of the things, I want to talk to you about.  You’re going to make some mistakes in the next few years. And make some good decisions.  I’m here to help you out.”

The teenager hadn’t yet cranked the Mustang. He just sat there, looking at the old version of himself.

“First of all, here’s a picture of our wife and kids.”

“Dude, she’s hot.  I did good.”

“Yes, you did. You’ll meet her in college.  You’ll get married and then you’ll become a jerk. That’s what you have to change.  Here’s how.”

The old version of the man wrote down a list of things and handed to the boy.

The boy looked at it and looked curiously at the old man, “You mean I took a babe like that for granted?”

“Pretty much. The emotional bank account ran out of funds about five years ago.  Yes, she’ll be a pain in your butt — but much of it is because how you behaved.”

The teenager started getting a little color back in his skin.

“And another thing, finish what you started. Make your word your bond. And you need to set goals. Here is how.”

The older man wrote down another page of ideas.

The boy looked it over and said, “But this seems so simple.”

“It is. But we didn’t do it.  And our troubles began to snowball. About a year ago, you started to give up on your dreams.”

“To be a…….”

The older man interrupted him, “Yes. You became quite successful. But you didn’t change. And change came back to bite you in the butt.  Be proactive.”

“Proactive?” the teenager looked at him confused.

“Don’t wait for things to come to you. Go out and be aggressive.”

The older man then lifted his shirt. “And wear sunscreen. You don’t want this scar right here.”

The boy looked at the nine-inch gash on the stomach.

“One more thing, take better care of ourself.  I’m tired of being fat and out of shape.”

“Um, yes sir.”

The view out of the windshield started getting blurry.

“I don’t have much more time here,” the older man said to his younger self. “Love on Mom and Dad. You’ll miss the heck out of them when they are gone.  I’m not going to tell you when and how, just trust me on this one.  And one more thing — smack your sister for me.”

Both laughed.

And then the world went dark for the older man.

He woke up in the Mustang, which was completely restored. He felt his stomach. It was flat and there was no melanoma scar. He looked around the garage. It was different — it was bigger and neater.  His used Buick was now a new BMW. He ran to the door and there were his kids. But they were somehow different.  They were happier.  And actually glad to see him.

He walked into the kitchen and he heard his wife’s voice call out to him.  It sounded different, too.  And also happier.

His wife ran around the corner and hugged him. “I missed you so much today!”

He was stunned.

“I’m so proud of your promotion, “She continued. ” I knew you’d get it. You’ve worked so hard. And the boys have been so looking forward to you coming home. They’re ready to go running with you.”

The father looked over at his sons.  They were busy getting on their running shoes.  The rest of the house was tidy, but very well-appointed.  Obviously he made more money now.

He put down his briefcase and walked over to a row of pictures. There was a picture of him from high school sitting in the Mustang.  “I’m glad you listened,” he said quietly as he looked at his 18-year-old self. “I’m glad you listened.”