I have been thinking about my father a lot this week. I am trying to buy a car and my father was a car salesman. (‘My father was a car salesman’ is like saying Beethoven was a piano player, Einstein a smart enough guy and Maya can string together some pretty good rhymes.)
My Dad could out worthington Cal. Long before anyone was going to see Cal- my Dad had car dealerships in Arizona and Southern California where I grew up in the mid-late 50’s - early 60’s.
His lot in Az had a ‘pit’. (As I look back, I’m sure it was a well constructed ‘show place’ and it was covered with the matching tarmac- but to my little girl eyes- it was a pit with cars parked all topsey turvy.) I remember my Dad having all the cars pulled out of ‘the pit’ one summer and stocking it with trout. He passed out fishing rods to all the kids while the parents shopped for their brand new cars. This was shortly after his very successful sale for widows and orphans - but before he bought me the anteater at the whole sale car auction.
Daddy’s carmanship didn’t stop at the lot - it extended to our home. I remember coming home one day to find my Dad standing in the front year dressed as usual in a dark suite and tie - talking to a man with the most outrageous hair I had ever seen on a grown-up. It was my first afro and it was amazing. The man was a few inches shorter than my father’s 5’10’’ and was bright white in the blazing Arizona sun- but his HAIR - it was wild. I was so impressed with The Hair - that the rest of the scene- he was wearing only a red Speedo and knee hi lace up boots, holding a chain - escaped me. No man I had ever seen had hair like this (my father was bald, and all the men on the block had Beaver Cleaver’s Dad haircuts.) But, eventually I stopped staring at this poor guy and reached out to pet the bear. “Wait until he’s done drinking his coke Honey” the kindly bear wrestler told me. (The alligator was in the backyard in our pool. “Wait until Tuffy gets the gator out to go swimming, Sweetie”) I have pictures.
One of the oddest pictures I have from that time is of me. My Dad had decided to use me in a print ad for his new model cars. I was about 6 or 7. I’m sitting on this brand new Rambler wearing a dress with more ruffles and crinolines than Shirley Temple wore in a year. My hair in very tight sticky out pig tails (not to be out done by my equally sticky out ears and buck tooth laden over bite)………..smiling as if this was a GOOD thing to have propped on your new car………. My childhood - “Big Fish” or “Hotel New Hampshire”?
But, I digress, I started out with: I’m trying to buy a car.
I may find one. But, I doubt it will be as fun as buying one from my Dad.
My Dad could out worthington Cal. Long before anyone was going to see Cal- my Dad had car dealerships in Arizona and Southern California where I grew up in the mid-late 50’s - early 60’s.
His lot in Az had a ‘pit’. (As I look back, I’m sure it was a well constructed ‘show place’ and it was covered with the matching tarmac- but to my little girl eyes- it was a pit with cars parked all topsey turvy.) I remember my Dad having all the cars pulled out of ‘the pit’ one summer and stocking it with trout. He passed out fishing rods to all the kids while the parents shopped for their brand new cars. This was shortly after his very successful sale for widows and orphans - but before he bought me the anteater at the whole sale car auction.
Daddy’s carmanship didn’t stop at the lot - it extended to our home. I remember coming home one day to find my Dad standing in the front year dressed as usual in a dark suite and tie - talking to a man with the most outrageous hair I had ever seen on a grown-up. It was my first afro and it was amazing. The man was a few inches shorter than my father’s 5’10’’ and was bright white in the blazing Arizona sun- but his HAIR - it was wild. I was so impressed with The Hair - that the rest of the scene- he was wearing only a red Speedo and knee hi lace up boots, holding a chain - escaped me. No man I had ever seen had hair like this (my father was bald, and all the men on the block had Beaver Cleaver’s Dad haircuts.) But, eventually I stopped staring at this poor guy and reached out to pet the bear. “Wait until he’s done drinking his coke Honey” the kindly bear wrestler told me. (The alligator was in the backyard in our pool. “Wait until Tuffy gets the gator out to go swimming, Sweetie”) I have pictures.
One of the oddest pictures I have from that time is of me. My Dad had decided to use me in a print ad for his new model cars. I was about 6 or 7. I’m sitting on this brand new Rambler wearing a dress with more ruffles and crinolines than Shirley Temple wore in a year. My hair in very tight sticky out pig tails (not to be out done by my equally sticky out ears and buck tooth laden over bite)………..smiling as if this was a GOOD thing to have propped on your new car………. My childhood - “Big Fish” or “Hotel New Hampshire”?
But, I digress, I started out with: I’m trying to buy a car.
I may find one. But, I doubt it will be as fun as buying one from my Dad.
3 comments:
Oh, what I wouldn't give to see that picture!! Amazing. Must have been quite the adventure growing up.
Many more Pop-Pop stories to come I'm sure, being the incarnation of Big Fish.
Explains alot - eh, Joann?
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