Shengliver’s Note: The teen writer has a benevolent dad, whose beautiful heart is worn on a muddy car.

That Saturday, it was sunny and warm. I was standing by the roadside, waiting for Dad to pick me up for a spin together. A few minutes later, the familiar blue Nissan pulled by. I hopped in and fastened the safety belt.

“Hey, man! Long time no see. So, you have just decked her with mud. Is this the latest in style?” I asked.

“Long time no see,” Dad replied, smiling broadly at me from the rear-view mirror. “Don’t you think she looks much chicer in the new style?” He seemed to be proud of the bedraggled car.

“Um … To be frank, not at all,” I blurted out.

The window was splattered with mud and soil. The dirt was so much that an attempt to look out rewarded me with little more than a fuzzy view of the sky.

Vice president of a road construction company, Dad regularly tours for inspection the sites where new roads are being paved. Those places are all gravel, sand and mud everywhere. Before he comes back home every evening, he has to get the vehicle scrubbed nice and clean. All our family love to be neat and tidy. Oddly enough, these days, the vice president has left the car unwashed, reason unknown.

I was wondering why Dad had been so lazy when the car pulled over at a newly built bridge. Standing on the kerb was a labourer, toolkit in hand, hitching a ride. I opened the door and beckoned the guy to get in. Budging up on the back seat, I made room for our passenger. After we were settled, Dad started.

Tears here and there in his outfit, our passenger was covered in dirt from head to toe. “What a job!” I said to myself. When he became aware of my attention, the workman got uneasy and fidgeted a bit.

“Sorry to mess up your beautiful car, Miss,” he murmured apologetically. “I think I should get out.”

“Oh no. Never mind, mate. You see,” Dad protested warmly from the driver’s seat, “she is already very dirty. It has been a long time since the last wash. Take it easy.” His words put our passenger completely at ease.

“That’s it,” I mused. I have never whined about the dirt again ever since.

We are not rich; neither do we have power. Despite that, it is in our family genes that we do our best bit to make things easier for those in need. One of Dad’s tactful ways to reach out to the needy is to have his blue Nissan splashed over with mud.

That is why Dad drives a dirty car.