It was a year ago today the last time I saw my father alive. Today, as I cycled home from work saturated with grief, I came across this car- the same colour and model as he. The car that made me so wide-eyed as a child. I approached the owner and, by way of muddled English (he), and danish (me) - I tried to communicate the moment's significance- an encounter made all the more special when he offered to drive me a few hundred meters in the passenger seat. All at once and with so much clarity: the sensation of rumbling down country lanes, a car seat mounted so low on the chassis you could feel every small stone and dent in the road, visions of oast houses and apple trees whizzing by- sacred moments with Dad that I've been struggling to hold onto. I'm not sure if he quite understood why this brought tears to my eyes. Perhaps he thought initially that I found the car simply... Cool? (he certainly seemed bemused)- But nonetheless, this man gave me the most amazing gift.