Happy Father's Day! If You Could Buy Your Dad HIS Dream Car WHAT Would It Be?

My Father's favorite car was a monster 1955 Buick Roadmaster - at a time when those cars were considered "Doctor's Cars" (He was a Dentist) We lived in town when he bought it - the car barely moved out of the Driveway - it was too wide to get to the back yard between the houses. THe trunk was big enough for 12 dead bodies along with their Luggage and Golf Bags. IT had POWER WINDOWS and AIR CONDITIONING - and a starter switch on the floor.

Most local trips were then made by Bus or Train - and we walked in Town. It was basically used for Church - and for Vacations. Back then - the Cadillac was the car for the very rich - the higher end professionals drove Buicks (Doctors, Lawyers etc)- Oldsmobile was just a tad below Buick was for Business managers. There was a definite pecking order in town - and few tried to rock the boat. That changed when we moved to the country.

In 1955 my dad purchased a new Buick Roadmaster, piled the whole family in and drove us from NJ to El Paso, Texas and back to visit my uncle in the army. Driving on single lane highways through the deep south back then was truly memorable and an education I've never forgotten. Two years later my dad won a 1957 Cadillac in a high school fund raising raffle. The interesting thing was that the winning ticket was not the first one drawn but the last one drawn, a very dramatic scene when it got down to ten possible winners. Think of him often and wish he were here today so I could buy him his dream car, whatever it might have been.

There is someone on this site who doesn't care for anything I say. I get it. However when you choose to ding me for a memory of my father I'm calling you out for the gutless piece of shit you are who deserves the miserable existence of your heartless cowardice life. Have a good day asshole.

@PUG WELL SAID

I built my dad a replica of his favorite car: a Yenko Camaro.

It was an important gift given our long, strange history and his less than arrow-straight path.

He was an absent father when I was growing up and I hated that I shared his name and that I am a dead ringer for him. When I was 19 I got called saying my father was in the hospital, but I hadn't seen him for 10 years, so out of curiosity I went to see him. He had nearly died of a drug overdose and had been revived with Narcan. For some unexplainable reason, I believed him when he said he needed my help; perhaps the boy in me needed to believe. I found him a program, a trailer to live in, and got him a job. One day I decided to surprise visit him and he was busy shooting up. I left him black and blue. Still, he convinced me that he needed my help and as so many do, I did. But this time he agreed to piss tests. For two years I made him give a sample right in front of me at the most random of times. He passed. Eventually, he moved to the Palm Springs area married his lifelong love, an OTR trucker, and he sells cars at a dealer off the I-10. He and I are extremely close now and I am very proud of him. I guess a part of that is that he actually got better whereas my mother just went deeper and deeper into addiction and died of it. When I first sensed I could really trust him, I decided to build him that Camaro. It was very emotional driving up with the hauler and having him stand there dumbfounded and unable to process the moment. To this day, he sends me--thankfully empty--urine sample bottles at the most random of times.

God Bless!

Oddly yes, but because of being raised around all sorts of BS I have no patience for it now. My brothers and I made it out of that milieu, but my sister is my mother V2.0.

I did spend the day with my great-grandfather who is in his early 90s and looks far younger and is still driving safely.