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/u.char'.hoa/

     There was still a slight tinge of humidity in the air, and the stickiness that lingered had dissipated to a great degree.  One can still recount the day being very heated and humid.  The sun was so blistering and the air so muggy thick that one could see the air warp and distort hovering over the pavements and sidewalks. After nightfall people were thankful.  The air was still moist.  The humidity was still apparent, but was considered a saving grace in comparison to the day.  It was now night.  And, cool enough to not have to turn on the air conditioning and warm enough to ride around with the windows rolled all the way down.  I just wore a tee shirt. My father – /ba/ I called him.  It meant father translated from the Cantonese dialect.  He drove the car like an expert as usual.
     The faster he let the car glide along the pavement, the cooler the air seemed.  Cupping my hand, it felt like I was pulling the air in.  It felt nice as it brushed against my face.  I witnessed the scenery and it seemed like snapshots.  Everything told it’s own little story.  I would catch a glimpse of people hanging out on house porches and wondered what they were talking about.  I could look into windows and see families gathered around a table.  Everything turned to a blur as the car sped up.  We passed through the different neighborhoods; Bay Ridge, Bensonhurst, Sheepshead Bay.
     My father liked to cruise around leisurely and without any distinct direction in mind.  He seemed to be so carefree at the moment.  It was obvious to me that this was one of his favorite activities.  Usually, he was more concerned over money or talking about the future – my future.  He always told me that I was going to be someone one day.  His boy was going to grow up and be someone.  His boy was not going to have to work hard with long hours like he did.  Him and my mom immigrated over to this country and made a life for themselves here.  That was just the start.
     I hung close to the other side of the car peering out the passenger side window.  Once in a while, I would cock my arm out and make it swim in the wind, letting the air wave my forearm up and down.  I would look over to my father and smile.  He would contently smile back.  /u.char.hoa/ it was pronounced.  Translated from the Cantonese dialect, it meant automobile joy ride, and that was what this was.
     After about an hour, we usually ended up at the Carvel that was on Sixty-fifth Street.  I would get my favorite, a soft vanilla cone.  Once in a while, I got it with Chocolate sprinkles, but usually, just plain vanilla.

     Today, I still enjoy partaking in /u.char.hoa/ and yes, my favorite ice cream is still a vanilla cone…sometimes with chocolate sprinkles, but usually just plain vanilla.
 

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