Both Oars In Like Father, Like Son

Jul 30, 2010

First, out of respect to my father, I must point out that he taught me many things, including how to sail and fish. He even taught me how to tie my own flies. He started me on simple poppers and advanced me to more intricate caddis flies made with deer hair, which is no mean feat with an impetuous young boy. But, intentional or not, what my dad taught me most was how to car deal. I have given up fishing and didn’t sail much past my youth, but I cannot shake the early imprint laid on me thanks to my dad’s appreciation for a pretty car and haggling.  

My dad earned his living designing plastics for DuPont, not selling cars. However, due to our large family and his long daily commute to work, we put enough miles on our family vehicles to necessitate frequent visits to the local car dealers. Somehow, what I remember most from my childhood time with my dad are these visits to dealerships. At an early age, I can recall walking behind him as he admired the lines and curves of the newest models.

Since I am the last child of eight, fifty percent of the early car purchases I witnessed were governed by my dad’s strong belief that everyone needed a seatbelt—a belief he held long before “click it or ticket” appeared on highway signs. This meant buying a station wagon, no matter how they looked. It was simply the only car that could accommodate our clan and my dad’s strict requirement of safety in the pre-minivan era.

Some of the Oldsmobile wagons we owned were strong in the engine and easy on the eyes, but most were unremarkable, functional vehicles. On other hand, the second family car would often be something a bit sportier. My dad didn’t go with leather until recently, but some of his early Cutlasses were pretty snazzy inside, sleek on the outside and powerful under the hood. He bought a series of these muscular Oldsmobiles until they dropped cylinders and became boxy and ugly. I also remember him having a red Cougar that would be considered a classic today. These are the automobiles that ignited my early love for cars. 

The fact is that my dad, proving to have a good eye for cars, has owned several classic models over the years including, I believe, a ’57 Chevy. Unfortunately, he lacked Leno’s resources to hold on to them like paintings. Instead, he and my mom invested in quite a large collection of well educated kids.   

As time goes on, my dad and I have continued to discuss cars. I have rarely made a purchase without consulting him. He still keeps up with what is out there, though these days he does it by browsing the web rather than walking the lot. His purchases have also slowed in frequency. Yet, at eighty-two, he continues to buy. This year, he bought two new cars: a Pilot and a Prius. Only a real car lover buys an eight passenger SUV and a car that will take years of driving to offset its premium cost in gas savings as an octogenarian. 

My dad’s recent car choices have influenced me in unexpected way. Noting that his latest purchases seem more like those of a man in the throws of raising a family than a retiree with his pick of the lot, I was prompted to reflect on one of life’s painful realities. We are most able to buy the sports car of our dreams when we are least driven to do so. It seems the urge to go fast fades with age right alongside the motor reflexes to do it adeptly. 

It may be a bit too obvious to point out that the need for speed is a young man’s need. But what is important to keep in mind is that the ability to fulfill that dream physically and emotionally also belongs to the young—even if the necessary financial assets do not. It is not easy for an eighteen year old to come up with over $40,000 to buy an SRT8 Challenger. Though perhaps if more did, we would be dealing with fewer fifty year olds buying them during a mid-life-crisis.

The benefactor of this reflection is my teenage son, whose desire to own an American sports car suggests that he has inherited the car gene as well. No one is more amazed than me to find out that I am willing to support him in this crazy pursuit. Maybe it is just my old love for cars percolating back to the surface, but I think it is actually my love for him and my dad.