My Dad's Shelby Work Car
My Dad had the patients of Job. 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. 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 worked he found a 1952 Ford for $20. It ran but the doors were rusted and opened when you hit a bump so he wired them shut.
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 compaired 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 never missed a day of work so he had no choice but to drive his hotrod to work. An hour later I was up and on my way to work.
The day was quiet until I got home, my Dad was as mad as I had ever seen him. He yelled for a long time until my Mother pointed out that I had asked and he said yes.
He realized there was no way to repair this the guys at work had already seen it. All he could do now was lean into it. He laughed right along with them but they all knew it was killing him. Don't feel sorry for him he could give as good as he got.
The next few weeks they even arranged for a cop to follow him 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 unloaded his hotrod for $25.
It sat in a field on a neighbors farm for at least a decade. I made a point of pointing it out each time my Dad and I drove by.
You know those stupid things you did in your youth? Twenty years later you can talk about them and everyone laughs....... well my Dad never laughed. I was a bit of an ass when I was a kid, so Dad had every right to kick my ass daily. He was a good guy I really miss him.
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