He was the only Dad I’ve known since my mother was divorced when they met. He was, as I grew from 4 years old to adulthood, the most handsome man I had ever seen, and most of the time he was my hero.
Of course, the statement: “most of the time” applies to my early teen years, where the rules included “no being in the car with boys, no makeup allowed, no dating and so on…” Yes, he was unbelievably strict but suddenly I was turning 16 and he promised to buy me a car!
Picture this! It’s my 16th birthday. I woke up, ran from the breakfast table to the front window expecting to see a bright, shiny car. Sadly, parked in the drivway was an old yellow (1948) Pontiac convertible!
I looked at my dad and with tears in my eyes, I asked (prayed) if this was a joke. “No”, he replied,. “Look at it this way. Your friends may be getting new cars and if they wreck them they are in big trouble. If you wreck this car, so long as you are not hurt, no one gives a damn. Come on, let’s go check it out!”
I walked to the driveway and opened the car door and gasped when I saw the seats – red plaid in a yellow car? Oh my!
As I slid behind the wheel, I couldn’t even see out of the front window. My mother came running out of the house carrying a huge California Yellow Pages book and laughingly said, “Here is your booster seat!”
With the Yellow pages firmly in place and catching my breath, I thought, well… it is a convertible. Then reaching up to see how to put the top down, I spotted a hole in the canvas right above my head.
To me, that was no big deal and I was able to ignore that feature. After all, I reasoned, it doesn’t rain much.
And then I went to start the engine… Oh my lord! What was that button for next to the brake I thought?
Glancing over at the gear shift, I realized it was not automatic; it was a stick-shift. Thank goodness I was taking Drivers-Ed in school!
Looking back and long story short, my Dad was right. My girlfriends and I had the most fun in that car, especially rocking in unison as we drove home from Lake Mead and attempting to climb up the hill to Boulder City.
As the years flew by I married and gave birth to two little girls. On more than one occasion, watching them grow, I reflected on things and events my dad and I did together when I was their age.
One of my best memories was when living in England, my parents took me to Italy for the summer. My Dad and I would walk to the beach always stopping at an ice cream cart on the way.
He loved that I learned to speak Italian in school, so he told me order our cones, 5 flavors each. We laughed so much trying to enjoy them as we sat on the curb. It’s a mental picture I have never forgotten.
I lost him in 2003 and over the years, really enjoy remembering the fun times with the man I miss so much. Hopefully you have your cherished memories too.
Happy Father’s Day to all!
