Over the past few years my father and I would go to car shows and look at all of the great classic cars. He was the reason I loved cars. We would walk around the shows and would point out the cars of his youth along with who owned them. “See that 47 Lincoln over there? I can remember seeing that car as a kid in my neighborhood.” He once pointed out a tiny Crosely and related the story about how crazy it was to see such a tiny car in the 1950s.
My dad never bought another classic car after having a 1948 Willys Jeepster in the 1970s. My dad and I had about the same mechanical aptitude, which means we broke stuff and the cars rarely ran. I kept asking him why he didn’t want to get another one but he would shrug.
Unfortunately, my dad passed in 2015. When I sold his truck my mother took the money and gave it to us kids with the request that we buy “something he would want you to have.”
It took me about 3 seconds to make my mind up. I bought my first classic car, a 1977 MGB. I’ve had a great time with it and even though he would never have fit in it, I think of him every time I drive it. My dad taught me about the history of cars, how to respect them and how to enjoy them.
I miss him each day but this car brings smiles and fun to all involved. That’s the way it should be. His legacy of laughter and tomfoolery somehow manifests itself in a little MGB.