I can recall waking up one morning when I was five years old. I was so excited. The impression of that day is still clear in my mind. It seems as though it happened yesterday. My dad would be returning from World War II that evening on a troupe train and I was going to Vincennes to meet him. The war wasn't over yet. Dad was getting a disability discharge. I had no idea what that meant but it really didn't matter. All that mattered was that he was coming home. Our family didn't have a car but Uncle Lee had agreed to take us to the train station in his green Ford V8. Most folks in our town didn't have cars back then. I couldn't remember the last time I had ridden in a car. What a day that was! Seeing Dad again and riding in a car both in the same day! It was a significant emotional event in my young life.
Another memorable event took place a few months later. Dad borrowed Pappy’s (Pappy was my grandfather) team of horses. He had found a discarded car setting in a barn lot. He paid fifteen dollars for that Model “A” and pulled it home with the horses. I watched and handed him tools as he worked on the car that day. It was my first experience at serious father/ son bonding. It was a man thing. It wasn't something that he would do with Mom or my sister. It was just us guys and the car. We took a rope hoist and pulled the engine. Dad rebuilt the engine, put it back in the car, and had it running again within twelve hours. That was a proud moment in the life of this kid and his dad. We had a car!
I will always remember fondly the very special, proud, and close feeling we shared when Dad and I would go for a ride in that car. We took a fly spray pump and painted the car black. We thought it looked great! Because of the shortages of civilian supplies during the war, we could not buy a battery or tires. Dad had to start the car with a crank and it ran on a magneto. We carried a frequently used Camel tire patching kit and a pump. We didn't mind the inconveniences. We were thrilled with having a car and being together.
About a year later, the war was over and victory was declared. The whole town was celebrating. Dad and I took the Model “A” to town to join in the jubilation. People were driving up and down Main Street in our hometown (Oakland City, Indiana population 3500) honking their horns and shouting with joy. Dad knew how to cause an electrical misfire that would cause the car to backfire with a loud bang. It sounded like a cherry bomb exploding!. We blew the muffler off of the car that day. It was a special day. There has never been another like it. The old car didn't last much longer after that and Dad is also gone. But, the glowing memories of those experiences, my growing love for Dad, and my fondness for cars continues steadfast. Now, my son and I frequently go for a ride in our car, just the two of us. It's a man thing, I guess.
DAN ROBLING©1996