throughout my childhood, my dad frequently spoke about his “all time dream car”… i would share it with you but it was an ever shifting parade of beautifully designed automobiles that my dad described with great reverence (also, i can’t remember what they were called, as i am not really a car person, but i can picture them perfectly.)
from the time he was little he has loved pretty cars and all the accessories that go with them. he had a large collection of leather driving gloves with little holes in the knuckles that allowed him to utilize his “lightning fast reflexes” when avoiding disaster or speeding around a slower driver who he might refer to as a “porf” which stood for “poor fool” or “poor f*cker” depending on the company. each car had its own leather handbag filled with special tools and leather cream for the seats that was carefully stored in the trunk. during the eighties his cars also had their own canvas covers that he referred to as “dighties.” he lovingly encased his cars in the “dighties” even when he was just making a quick run to the post office so that they were safe from bird poop which he was convinced contained acid that would destroy the paint job on contact. he also bought a dightie for my car when i started driving. i was not as meticulous about using it (unless i was parking in front of our house where he would see it) because installing the dightie was like putting a fitted sheet on giant, weirdly shaped mattress… exhausting!
(one of his earliest means of transportation)
(he graduated to a scooter)
(FINALLY a proper car!)
(pretty butter yellow car in high school)
some cars were staples throughout my childhood like the big, light blue mercedes sedan (which he carefully pronounced “mert-cedes” because he thought it sounded more german.) he bought that one the year i was born when he became a “family man.” but he always had a zippy little convertible on the side that he would dash around in, frequently with a set of golf clubs flung in the back. (the golf clubs also had lots of accessories: long, sleek leather cases to carry them, pom pom hats on their heads to prevent them from bumping each other, special towels used to wipe them down if divot dirt stuck to them…) the convertibles (a little silver italian spider, a dark gray “mert-cedes” 560, an ocean blue bmw something) almost always were driven with the tops down so that his enviable hair could blow in the wind. we had to be careful that his collection of necessities (glasses, wallet, house keys, leather man-bag that didn’t ever contain all of the other necessities so was just one more thing to remember) didn’t go flying out of the car as we toured around.
(one of the zippers… almost as snazzy as his shoes and white tie!)
(the “mert-cedes” of my childhood)
other cars did not last as long. there was one giant cadillac with obnoxious red seats that my mother referred to as “wretched excess” and refused to ride in. i don’t think that one was around more than a few months. we don’t even have any photos of it, which is saying a lot because whenever something significant happens, my father likes to commemorate it by taking a picture with a car. (he likes to take pictures with cars even when nothing has happened - cars are his preferred back drop.)
(high school graduation)
(college graduation… same mert-cedes)
i am so excited to be home this father’s day so that i can hopefully take a nice, scenic drive with my dad. i have far more practical, less exciting criteria for my cars than my dad ever has: air bags, beeping or automatic stopping so i don’t run something over, a third row of seats for schlepping extra kids around, a big screen so i can read the directions… but i DO share his love of a long drive. that’s where some of our best conversations have happened. happy, happy father’s day to my dashing dad… i love you higher than the sky is high and deeper than the ocean is deep. x0xxx
