New York Times Portraits of Grief

W. Ward Haynes

W. Ward Haynes really wanted the car. Not that it made a whole lot of sense.

The car was a Porsche Boxster. Two people could squeeze in it, and that was about it.

But there was the matter of the golf clubs. Both he and his wife, Ann, played golf. It did not look like two bags could even fit in the trunk. Ward-O, as he was known, insisted they could, if they were square-bottomed bags rather than round- bottomed ones.

And then there was the matter of the children: three of them. Where would they go? Well, the family had a larger vehicle for full-family trips. And starting in August, Mr. Haynes, 35, was no longer commuting by car from his home in Rye, N.Y., to his office in Stamford, Conn., but taking the train to his new job as a broker at Cantor Fitzgerald. So why shouldn't he have a fun weekend car? At least, that was his argument.

Hesitantly, Mrs. Haynes surrendered. He got his car the weekend before Sept. 11. "The family could not fit in it -- ever," Mrs. Haynes said. "But he really wanted it."

He went zipping around, giving everyone a ride. He picked up his 85-year-old grandmother. Mrs. Haynes figured that ride would not last long. They were out for two hours.