Father's Day- Memories of Grandpa

My grandpa's truck smelled like leather and hay.   He wore hats any time he was outdoors, ball caps and fedoras.  He would sometimes come by and ask if anyone wanted to ride with him. It was such a treat to go with him when he had to drive to Twin Falls.  We'd stop at his office where he'd show me off. After his co-workers oohed and ahhed, he'd open the magic cooler and get a soda for each of us.  The glass bottle was ice cold in my hand.  I don't know what we'd talk about on the hour-long drive.  I know I'd try to make my Dr.Pepper last as long as his did. His lasted the whole ride. Mine lasted 10 minutes.  Sometimes, on the way home, he'd buy us a burger. Heaven.
My grandpa was a CPA.  He had an office in his home and the walls were covered with pictures his grandchildren made for him. He'd let us use the adding machine and I felt so grown up listening to the clack-clack of the old machine.
My grandpa loved his grandkids.  He spoiled us. Loved having us around.  Never scolded or yelled.  Once, when my dad was out of work, as my grandparents left our house, Grandpa pressed a dollar in my hand. Not a big thing, but it said so much about how he loved me.
Grandpa picked my name. He named me after my grandma, Julia. He adored her. He worshiped her and treated her like a queen. It's no wonder she mourned like she did when he was gone.  Wouldn't you if the earth who revolved around you disappeared?  Her light was never quite as bright.
I'm sure I was his favorite. My siblings and cousins would probably claim the same thing (though they'd be wrong). He had a way of making each of us feel special.
I was twenty-one when he died. My light was dimmed as well.