My Dad's Shelby Work Car
I was a handful growing up, I wasn't in trouble with the law not that I didn't deserve it, I guess I was just a better sneak then my friends. My Dad had the patients of Job because I wrecked his cars, broke his tools, worried him sick and drove him crazy.
My Dad was a frugal man who grew up through the great depression. He collected screws, scrap lumber, wire, bent nails and assorted junk. He never bought new shoes or clothing he went to the second hand store. So when he needed a car because my mother started working he found a 1952 Ford for $20.
It ran but the hinges were rusted so the doors opened when you hit a bump so he wired them shut. The seats were full of field mice but Dad never drove fast enough to scare them away. No wipers, the tires were bald and different sizes but they held air. It did have turn signals but no blinker so you had to blink them with the handle. In other words it was a rolling safety violation. To my surprise he had valid plates and insurance thanks to my Mother.
One night he arrived home from the 2.5 mile drive from work, backed the car into the woods then climbed out the window. I laughed about it but it was nothing compared to the guys he worked with.
My Dad was a machinist and a parts inspector. The shop was all men, older WW2 and Korean War vets and young guys so there was plenty of teasing and joking. My Dad drove painfully slow in general but in his $20 hotrod it was a snails pace. He parked on a hill in case it wouldn't start so he could coast it and pop the clutch. One morning they saw him crawl out of the window so he got the nick name NASCAR.
Driving was always a point of argument between us, I drove too fast and he drove too slow. One Sunday my parents were leaving for the afternoon. On the way out of the driveway I asked my Dad if I could put stripes on his work car. He was distracted while arguing with my Mother and gave me a dismissive yes and drove away.
Within minutes I had the chalk line, tape, white house paint and a brush. My vision was the Shelby Mustang stripes.
It was a summer early morning about the time my Dad left for work I could hear him yelling but it wasn't a happy yell, I stayed in bed. My Dad took pride in never missing a day of work. It was too late to walk and my Mother was already working so he had no choice but to drive his "hotrod" to work. He could have asked me to drive him but looking back I think he knew he was way too angry. An hour later I was up and on my way to my own job.
The day was quiet until I got home, my Dad was as mad as I had ever seen him. He was really angry and wondered what the hell I was thinking until my Mother pointed out that I had asked and he said yes.
The next few weeks they even arranged for a local cop to follow him home and pull him over. It was a joke but he wasn't laughing when he got home. Before winter he started car pooling so he sold his hotrod to the neighbor for $25.
It sat in a field on the neighbors farm for at least a decade. I made a point of pointing it out each time my Dad and I drove by.
Sure I got disciplined but he was always fair. It was always to help me and never about him. I'm sorry for being such a hand full, he was a good man I really miss him.
(pictures AI Generated by Grok)
