Like Father like Son

I know people that openly talk about how their childhood sucked. Did it, really? Maybe in hindsight, that’s possible for some but not for me. That wonderful era before I morphed into a sullen, zit-faced chronic masturbator was a wonderful time.
My mother loves to talk about what a happy, easy child I was. I love the whimsical look on her face when she does. I suppose I was.
Looking back, one thing I remember is that I was able to amuse myself, which of course made my mother’s life easier. Between what seemed like miles of Orange Hotwheels track set up in my room and the dirt track that I created under the big pine tree at the top of the yard I could occupy myself all day with my cars alone. It’s interesting, I know I had a lot of interests and favorite toys as a little guy, but the Matchbox cars really stand out. It was a manifestation of my overall love for cars in general. I shared that with my dad, it was our thing.

Some of the Matchbox cars in the late’60s and early ’70s were silly, with huge tires and engine blocks sticking through the hoods. They were likenesses of the Funny Car craze. I liked them enough but I had a real taste for the classics from an early age. I liked the ‘Vettes, the Mustangs, the El Camino’s. I recognized them from the road, where I sat in the backseat of the family Truckster and just looked at cars. By the time I was 8, I could identify most cars by brand and model simply in seconds, even at night by their headlights alone. But as a little guy, maybe 4, my understanding of the American Muscle car was nothing less than precocious.
Just as grown men put their ‘Vettes and Mustangs in their garages and wipe them down with a cloth diaper, I also put my nice ones away when playing outside. They were to be looked at and shown off to my friends. Most of my time was spent playing with trucks. Pickup trucks. Tow-trucks. Cement trucks. Car-haulers. These toys looked like the real ones, I always picked them that way. It wasn’t a lack of imagination, it was an homage to my favorite truck driver, my father.

Is it a surprise that I spent a large portion of my career in some form of the car business?

8 thoughts on “Like Father like Son”

  1. You know, after reading a lot of your recent posts, you have a lot of wonderful material that would be great backgound for a mesmerizing novel. If you had the time and onclination to go there, of course.

    Liked by 1 person

      1. All the rage when I was a kid, saving pennies in a tin or a box. I just made mine in all shapes and sizes out of Lego, with little compartments for pennies, silver, and notes, even slides for the coins to roll down.
        I had a china pig in later life which was used for coppers and became our card money. The rule was everyone had a share and we’d play pontoon or something similar, but at the end of the evening, all money went back in the pig. That way, nobody lost anything and we kept our friends. Before I did it this way, I actually won somebody’s rent money and they wouldn’t take it back, saying it was their fault for gambling. I felt dreadful.

        Liked by 1 person

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