This one’s for
It’s short and sweet.Who by the way is a fantastic follow (if you enjoy British people).
As a follow-up to my recent story “Soul Sacrifice” …my extremely visually impaired and most beautiful 87 year old “mum” called me last night to remind me of the story when she was traded for a car dad wanted.
I loved my dad, but he was over-the-top with buying, fixing, driving and selling cars for hobby (+ a little extra immigrant income), that the California DMV once got after him to open a dealership. We lived on Urbana Avenue in Arleta, Pacoima, in a small yellow house with a flat white rock roof. He bought and sold cars faster than an auctioneer could speak.
It was the early 1980’s on an extremely hot summer day. Dad found a car he really desired to own fix-up and eventually sell in Auto Trader (car bible of the past, in case you weren’t familiar). Mom was his only sidekick in his endeavors to get a car home, unless he bartered a delivery off the back of a co-worker’s flatbed.
Dad made the appointment and off they went to Burbank. I believe it was a TransAm or the dreaded Torino he “made me drive” to Jr. College after my old Fiat lost its brakes in a canyon, sold to me without a windshield wiper motor. The reason dad tapped kicked my ankle, when he joined me on my first ever Auto Trader adventure, was because dad knew it was not a good car and refused to work on it. He called it “Fix-it Again Tony.” F I A T
Drove that beloved 5-speed car, that held a giant-sized rescue mastiff, (with the top down), through that canyon using the center emergency brake while mom, dad and my little brother were away on holiday.
Back to the story. They arrived to find the seller barefoot, bare-chested, belly over shorts, sweat wreaking havoc all over his face. They spoke for awhile about the car, dad with his list of questions, skeptical face I can still picture, ready to strike a bargain. But first, “I’d like to take it for a drive.”
Owner: “Do you have a deposit or anything you can leave with me before you do?” (it was customary back then, i.e., watch, credit card — kid you not)
Dad: “Well, I can leave my wife.”
Mom was killing herself last night remembering this story. “Off dad went, giddy as a young boy, leaving me with this large sweaty man. I could see he was uncomfortable, so he began to tell me stories of chauffeuring Robert De Niro and other stars around the valley, leaving me far less worried.”
You can’t make this stuff up.
Happy Wednesday everyone!
Awesome memory, thank you for sharing it here. What a beautiful picture of your mother, too. Sounds like your childhood was exciting in the best ways. I also once had a rescue mastiff, we think he was mixed with Lab; he was huge and brindle with golden eyes.
Thank you for a very delightful story about auto collecting. It resonates with me because my ex father-in-law was a car junkie and always had one or two cars in their garage and work shop torn apart with parts all over the place. He never seem to finish them very fast. One time he worked on one of our cars which he had for three months! Kid you not, Lol! Fortunately my ex-husband did not want to get his hands dirty like that. And my current husband doesn’t know anything about cars except to drive them.
But in some respects, those were lovely days because men could enjoy cars as a hobby. Today I’m not sure hobby is collecting the new modern cars.
Have a beautiful day, and thank you again!
💫💙💫