The Story Behind the Wheel of Aaron’s Car

My son, SPC Aaron J. Rathmann, U.S. Army 82nd Airborne, was stationed at Fort Liberty, North Carolina when he was taken from us in a motorcycle accident. Aaron had video-chatted me the day of his passing from a local car show to show me a truck he knew I would love. Moments after hanging up from that chat, Aaron was gone. 

Aaron grew up watching my friends and me build custom vehicles and had the itch for it himself. He was so excited when he purchased his 2015 Subaru WRX STi, and he intended to customize it further than it already was. He didn’t realize at the time, though, how expensive this hobby can be. He owned the car for a while when he slid off the road, damaging the front end. Aaron decided he could not swing the cost of repairs on his military income. It was not pretty, but the car was still drivable the way it was. 

On top of the front-end damage, Aaron taught himself to drive standard in this car, which eventually led to a missing reverse gear in the transmission. He would say, "Dad when I come to visit, I am gonna have to park in your driveway so I can roll out on the street to leave!" Even though his friends (and some of mine) busted on him for driving around a piece of junk, he would shrug it off and laugh, knowing that someday he would fix it up and make it amazing again. He asked me to help him get it back in shape after he got out of the Army.

As time passed, Aaron discovered a new passion for motorcycles. He parked his car for a few months to ride his motorcycle instead. His car sat right where he left it — at his best friend and roommate, Nathan’s, home — until it was repossessed approximately three months after he passed away, following several missed payments. A month or so after that, I mentioned to my girlfriend, Jennifer, one evening that it would have been cool if I could have gotten Aaron’s car — I was curious what happened to it. As they say, the rest is history. 

The very next day, Jennifer called anyone she could to track down the car, eventually locating it at the auto auction in Raliegh, North Carolina. It was going to be sold the following week. At this point, she called to tell me she found the car and passed on the contact information for the bank so I could arrange the purchase. 

Picking up where Jennifer left off, I began calling the bank and spoke to a few pleasant employees before eventually being placed on hold and reaching a dead end. I became increasingly frustrated while sitting on hold and decided to Google the name of the CEO of this major, nationwide bank. I found him without much trouble and wasted no time composing an email telling my son’s story and explaining what I was trying to accomplish. In the subject line, I typed, "Gold Star Parent...not spam...please read!!" 

I was nervous the email would be lost in a full inbox and never be read, but the very next day, I received a phone call from the bank’s vice president of specialized collections. He told me the CEO read my email and shared it with him. He let me know that his team would do everything they could to help me get my son’s car back. The bank came up with a price that we both agreed was fair based on the car’s condition, and the only thing left to do was wait. 

The entire process — because of paperwork — took around a month and a half. And, as it always is, the waiting was the worst part. During that time, I located a shipping company out of Syracuse, New York, who graciously offered to ship the car to me at half price. I also began making plans for the car and ordering the parts I would need to complete my vision. I picked out the color and planned everything else around it. 

Finally watching the car arrive was very bittersweet because the last time I saw it, my son was home for a visit. The people I work with at the car dealership thought I was crazy — that the car was too far gone to save, but I knew better. As the dealership’s service manager, I was fortunate to have access to a lift and the tools I needed to complete this project. With some help, I began removing damaged parts, stripping off anything I planned to replace. The radiator core support in the front end needed to be replaced, and the passenger frame rail needed to be pulled out about half an inch. I purchased used fenders, a front bumper, headlights, and a passenger-side rocker panel because they were all missing from the car. We used a national locating service to find color-matched used parts from all over the country. I also had the windshield replaced; it was cracked from Aaron’s accident. It took several trips to the local Subaru dealer to acquire all the nuts, bolts, washers, clips, brackets, hoses, and other missing parts to get the front end complete again.

Now that I knew for sure that we could make the car whole again, I decided to register the car and put it on the road. I knew I wanted custom vanity plates, and to my surprise, "GLD STR" was actually available! My service writer, and friend, helped me with every aspect of the car. We kept at it — installing a full air ride suspension setup, removing and rebuilding the transmission, and stripping the entire car down to nothing to get it wrapped “mamba green.” When we picked the car up from the wrap shop, we went crazy installing the parts that were delivered while it was gone. I couldn’t wait to get it on the road. 

From beginning to end, we built the car in 45 days, incorporating Aaron into the build wherever we could. He liked Twisted Tea, so we wrapped the air ride air tank to look like a can of Twisted Tea. The wooden flag in the trunk was made for Aaron his first Christmas in the serve, and we strapped it in place with parachute straps Aaron actually wore when he jumped. We proudly display the car at as many car shows as we can, and have already brought home three winning trophies at the time of this writing. 

I tell Aaron’s story to keep his memory alive. This project was about honoring his service and remembering who he was and what he loved. It was my self-care — whether I knew it at the time of the build or not. It was a healing, spiritual journey to complete this for him and to see how many people came together to help me honor my son in such a special way.

Jim Gennock is the surviving father of SPC Aaron J. Rathmann, U.S. Army

Photos: Jim Gennock