I knew Carol would be out of town that weekend, so I planned to take vacation on Friday. I would have a leisurely day driving to Philadelphia, having dinner and attending Dennis' high school basketball game. I feel that watching a grandchild compete in high school athletics is a special grandparent treat. I enjoy it immensely. That Friday game was great, and Dennis' team won. After the game we shared a pizza. I planned to take him to basketball practice in the morning and then familiarize myself with the new car dealers in the vicinity. Dennis asked me to consider a small pickup truck. He told me that a small pickup had already been approved by his parents.
After the Saturday practice, we sat down in the front seat of my car, and before I put my key in the ignition, I looked directly at Dennis. He was peering directly into my eyes. His words were, "This is going to be great! My own car. Did you think about the pickup truck, Grandpa?"
"Yes, and I have one major question."
"What is it?" Dennis shot back.
"Do you know what particular model or manufacturer you prefer?"
"I never thought about it. But I would like it to be available now so that I can drive it home."
I answered, "That does it, then. We find one that can be driven home today."

We laughed, and I started the engine of my car, and we proceeded to Main Street and stopped at the first auto dealership that had small pickups on their lot. The salesperson stated that there are three small trucks immediately available with the standard transmission that Dennis wanted and the less powerful engine that I wanted. One was dark blue, a second was light blue, and the third was bright red. We drove home from the car dealer with Dennis shifting the gears behind the steering wheel of a brand new red pickup truck.
Dennis led me immediately to his home where his step-father and mother inspected the vehicle. After securing parental approval, Dennis drove me to a late lunch in his new truck. Over lunch we decided to go to the Philadelphia Flyers hockey game in downtown Philadelphia. Dennis volunteered quickly to be the driver. Traversing the Schuylkill Expressway on Saturday evening tested even the best of driving skills, let alone a new driver in a new vehicle. We arrived safely, but I needed a quick beer.
The next day my newly self-appointed chauffeur drove us to Sunday church services in his small red pickup. We had lunch together at the IHOP, after which he returned me to my car. Dennis and I had hugged occasionally, maybe twice a year, and only if I initiated the hug. I knew he really didn't like hugging. But on this special Sunday afternoon, he advanced to me and gave me the biggest hug of his young sixteen-year life.

I drove away from Philadelphia with joy and satisfaction. I had returned to Dennis some of the excitement and happiness that he had provided for me over these sixteen years. During the drive back to Virginia, I pictured him as a baby and his growing up years. How he loved the woods behind our house. How we enjoyed hours of Saturday mornings walking the trails of Burke Lake Park. I watched his sporting games since tee-ball baseball and now to varsity basketball. The three-hour drive was filled with memories of a grandchild and his grandfather. I returned home and shared my wonderful weekend experience with Carol.
I remember that date of May 5 at 11:30 p.m. when the telephone on our bedroom nightstand interrupted my deep sleep. It was Dennis' mother crying. She choked out, "Dennis is dead." She couldn't speak. I heard muffled words, "automobile accident," and then the telephone line was disconnected. I heard Carol's words, "Who is it?" I couldn't speak. Carol took the telephone handset from my grip and placed it to her ear. She put the handset back in the telephone cradle and asked again, "Who was it?" By now the tears were dripping from my chin as I sat on the edge of our bed.
She shouted at me, "What is it?"
I choked out, "Dennis is dead."
I watched Carol collapse back into the bed. "Oh my God!" were her words as she lay there.
After a few minutes I stated, "Claire was crying wildly on the phone, but I think I heard 'automobile accident.' Then the line disconnected. We need to go to Philadelphia right now."

Carol agreed, and we were out the door in seven minutes. We arrived at Dennis' home at 3:00 a.m. All the lights were still on. I knocked on the front door and gently pushed it open. I saw Claire sitting on the sofa in the living room, just staring at the wall through red, swollen eyes. I ran to her and we hugged and cried. I separated and Carol hugged Claire.
Claire’s tearful first words were, "Thank you for coming so quickly.”
"How did this happen?" was my question.
"Driving his pickup too fast and it was raining. Another boy is dead and a third is still at the hospital in critical condition."
My legs weakened and I fell down into the overstuffed chair next to the sofa. Huge red letters flashed across my mind, "MY RED PICKUP." I was getting nauseated. I remember going to the bathroom
in the hallway and trying to throw up into the toilet bowl. Carol tells me she picked me up from the floor of the bathroom and then we drove to a nearby hotel and rented a room for what must have been three days. I don't remember anything of those days.
My memory begins with a Monday afternoon drive back to Virginia. Carol and I were returning home after Dennis' funeral. I remember telling Carol, "I killed him."