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In August 2012 my Dad died. He had a lifelong love of cars and all things car-related, and now, whenever I see an old or unusual car I think immediately to myself “Dad would have loved this”.  This past weekend I spotted an old Volvo station wagon parked on the street and immediately took a photo with my phone and texted it to my sister, with the words “Dad would have loved this!”. She immediately agreed, yes, indeed he would have.

I thought about the old Volvo a lot over the past few days, as Dad had a particular love of Volvo cars. I can usually identify the make and model of an old car pretty quickly. This is something my Dad taught me, and I carry it with me still. When I see an old car I immediately am reminded of my Dad, and imagining what he might say about it makes me smile. Since Dad’s death I have started to snap photos of the old cars I encounter. Discovering an old car still running, parked on the street, out “in the wild” gives me an unexpected joy. Somebody still loves this old car, like my Dad would have. Obviously they do, because it’s out on the street. Not in a museum or a car show, but still being driven around. These cars are worth the extra aggravation and expense to maintain to the people who own them. I always wonder what memories are attached to these cars, memories of drive-in movies, waitresses on roller skates delivering a root beer float, bringing a new baby home from the hospital, or taking a young couple to the prom.

I picture my Dad as a younger man, with his head under the hood, grease on his hands, asking me to hand him some tool, working to keep his old car in good condition, so he could take us on a camping adventure, to visit our cousins, out for ice cream, or just for a drive. When I spot an old car now, it brings me joy. Old cars remind me of my Dad and all he taught me and all we did together.

Thanks, Dad.