Dear Ole Dad

It is Father's day and thus far I have received "Happy Dad's Day" text messages from my brother and sister in law and a coworker. (Tio) We have been trading smack over the up coming Tiger-Longhorn series up in Omaha at Alex Box North. Oops I just got a text from Little Cat's mommy. And The Rock Star Mentality just came to our bedroom and showed me her new lip piercing. Ok now I got another text from a new Dad, my son in law.

My father, T.W. will have been gone 10 years this coming December. Of course, I miss him but I can honestly say that I did not leave anything on the table with him.

He and his father, my Grandaddy (Dit), were actually best friends. I always thought that I should have been best friends with my Dad. I felt that really never got to that point but as I grow older I am beginning to think perhaps we were. I am satisfied our relationship was a good one.

T.W. was a good and wise parent and I guess I can only hope that my offspring will be able to truly feel the same way of me.

I could write on and on about T.W. But last night I was laying in bed and thinking about him and my first new car.

As I have mentioned in earlier postings, my first car was a 1965 Blue and White four door sedan Chevrolet Impala with a 283 V-8 four barrel. After about a year I purchased my father's company vehicle which was a 1968 White four door sedan Chevrolet Impala (which I promptly wrecked the first week I had it). I drove that land shark for about a year. It got terrible gas mileage and my mother began to suggest that I consider getting a car that got much better fuel economy. Gas was selling for about 29 cents per gallon at the time but there were rumours that the price would be going up to nearly a dollar per gallon. Mother suggested that I look into this new car called a Toyota. I went and looked at one but to be honest, I would have rather walked that drive one of those. They were not even close to being sporty. I had been watching commercials and reading Car & Driver and I had my sites set on the all new Chevy Vega GT. It was small and sporty. It was supposed to get good gas mileage and Chevy was claiming they would not change the body style for at least 5 years. If I were to by one I could essentially have a new car for 5 years.

I began my campaign to sell my parents on the idea. Dear old Dad seemed as if he really did not give a shit. I kept telling him how great the Vega GT was. On a Saturday he and I drove over to Red River Chevrolet. Before long I was behind the wheel of a brand new 1971 Chevy Vega GT. The salesman made a big mistake. When we went to test drive the car, he sat in the front seat and let my father squeeze into the small area known as the back seat. I realized pretty soon that Dad was just not "buying". Even as I drove around downtown Bossier City, Louisiana, I realized my dreams of owning a sports car were over. As we walked into the showroom I realized that my father was about to tell the salesman thanks but no thanks. There between the babyshit yellow Monte Carlo and the Red Corvette was a light blue metallic Camaro. "What about this one?" My father inquired. My heart froze. "Sorry but that one is sold" replied the salesman. "Surely you have more of them in stock don't you?" "Sure"said the salesman. and within a few minutes we were outside looking at rows and rows of camaros. Dad loved the color blue and he seemed pretty acceptable to the idea of upgrading my Vega GT dreams as long as the car was blue. There were at least 50 Camaroes on the lot and none of them were blue. I was speechless. In a short while he found a light green (Cottonwood Green) camaro. It was pretty stripped down and only had a six cylinder in it. But it was a Camaro. Right then and there he told the salesman he wanted it. And the deal was struck.

It was amazing. Later that day we received a phone call that the car we picked out was actually sold as well. We were about to drive back over to the dealership but Dad said he would go alone. I argued but I did not want to press the issue. Since my parents were paying for the car (I was to work and pay them monthly) I felt I had better let Dad do as he wanted. Later that evening he returned and told me that he picked an avocado green one and this one had a V-8 rather than a six cylinder. He told me it seemed to be a little bit sportier. I was thinking how could a green car ever be sporty. But trust me I was very happy non the less. He and my mother would pick it up the following Monday and drop it off where I was working as a payroll clerk (UPS) as a summer job.
Around 4:30 they showed up and I ran out into the parking lot. A lot of the drivers were getting in and were all looking at my brand new 1971 Z-28. Holy Shit it was not only a camaro but a Z-28 with a 330 horse power 350 cubic inch LT1 engine with a 4 speed Hurst shifter. On that day I realized my father really was cool. Left up to me I would have been tooling around in a Vega GT instead I had a real sports car. A few days later I have Craiger slotted mags placed on it and I installed a Pioneer eight track tape deck with four speakers. I was riding around in Shreveport in the hottest car around listening to Spirit singing I Gotta a Line on You. Life was good.

All because of my Dad


Thanks Dad.

The Third