Mom told me the temperature was almost the same on my birthday this year as the day I was born. She was right. While having that conversation, I was cleaning out my Jeep.
I haven’t thought anything too special of my birthday for years. Shannon thinks differently about that. She thinks it’s a day to celebrate yourself, even selfishly if need be. I decided to take the day off and do whatever I wanted. I didn’t want to sleep in or drink myself stupid. Both of those are nice, but this was my day, after all.
I’ve had my Jeep since late August. It’s been a busy couple of months and between real life and the minor repairs it needed, we hadn’t gotten to wheel it yet. With this in mind, it made my decision for what to do with my day off easy.
Shannon and all my friends had to work. Dad’s retired, as is my uncle and my “little brother” Josh was off work so I invited all the guys in the family to join me. Josh has the same lousy memory I do and Uncle Fred was under the weather so it ended up being just Dad and me.
There’s been a bit of that lately and I hope to find the time for a lot more. The older I get, the older he gets. I never felt like I knew him when I was young. He worked some crazy hours when Bec and I were growing up to make sure we had everything we needed…and most of what we wanted. Kids can’t understand such things and I was no exception.
Then I got my first truck. Along with it, I got all the problems associated with a then 13-year-old vehicle. That’s where it all started. The first good deal on a truck Dad came across was an 85 S-10 4×4 pickup. We had enough mud in the neighborhood for me to get the gist of what four wheel drive was for. It had enough age on it to give me problems.
And then, at 18 years of age, I truly met my dad. A career mechanic, he had the tools and the know-how to fix most anything. I was elbow deep into the basics before I’d had the truck a year: starter, alternator, door hinge pins, radiator hoses, ball joints, etc.
Years have passed and I’m now on my 4th 4×4. The S-10 has been gone since 2002 but the time spent in the garage, in parts stores and in junk yards has built a great relationship between father and son. I’m still learning from him and (since I have the internet) he’s learned some things from me as well.
This was something Dad had never done before. He was a hot rod guy. A street racer before it was glorified by Hollywood and penalized by law enforcement. He was from a simpler time – an era when people would find a straight section of blacktop back in the woods and just race for fun.
He was born in 1940. It wasn’t until the 60s when most manufacturers started offering trucks with factory-installed four wheel drive. It would have to be 10 years old or so for a man of his means at that time to be able to afford one. I guess at 30 years old, you’re sort of into what you’re into and within the next few years, my half brother and sister were born and play time was over for him.
All of this was running through my head as we drove my Jeep out onto the sand for the first time. I’ve been all over Carova Beach in a variety of vehicles with a number of friends. To be able to share this with the man who’d made it all possible – in more ways than one – was just a heartwarming feeling and exactly what I wanted to do on my birthday. Thanks Dad. I love you. Mom, you’re next!






