Straight talk from a very persuasive dad has a long reaching effect.
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At 6:00 A.M. on my 16 birthday, my father walked into my bedroom, tapped me on my shoulder and quietly woke me. He whispered,
“Happy birthday. Put your clothes on. Come downstairs. We are going for a ride… But, first, we need to talk.”
Dad was always full of surprises and short sentences.What could be waiting for me?
“Here. Sit down. Shut up and listen.”,
he said as he pointed to a chair in the kitchen.
With 2 hands he yanked out another chair that was hiding under the white porcelain covered steel table. Dad slammed that chair with a thud directly in front of me. We were eye to eye. About 18 inches of air separated us.
I could smell his coffee breath.
He paused.
“I bought an old car for you… to use. We’ll go see it in a few minutes,”
said my Dad with no smile on his face. He scowled and stared at me.
“I’m not playing around here. Driving is serious business. Understand?”
“Yes,” I said.
My brain was thrilled but no smile on my Dad’s face told me that now was not a time for smiling.
He took a cigarette out of an open pack that he kept in his shirt pocket. He lit the cigarette and spoke with it dangling from his lips.
“This is how the deal will work. First off—I own the car. I am letting you use the car. You don’t own the car.
DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?”
“Yes,” I said.
“If you talk back to me… if you get bad grades… if you do anything I don’t like – I will take those keys back so fast that you will think I’m Houdini. Understand?”
“Yes,” I said.
I looked out of the corner of my eye and saw my Mom standing next to the stove.
She looked back at me, then back at my Dad. She pointed at my father for extra emphasis.
Her motion said,
“Listen to him and look at him. Don’t look at me.”
My Dad continued.
“No speeding. No goofing around while you are driving. You could kill people with that car. Understand?’
“Yes,” I said.
“If you or that car comes back smelling like alcohol – you will be riding a bicycle until you are 40. Understand?”
“Yes,” I said.
He stood up and walked toward the back door. I followed my father into the backyard.
There sat an old Dodge in all of its slightly rusted 4 door 6 cylinder glory.
The car was mine… to use.
“You’re driving. I need to get some cigarettes.”
My dad had a way of getting my attention and being very persuasive.
I waited until my Dad passed away to get my first speeding ticket.
I didn’t want to ride a bicycle to work.
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Short, sweet, to the point, sounds like my kind of guy!
Dude!
Geezer!
Your old man I mean.
My dad couldn’t afford to buy me a car over here in UK in the 60s.
Wish your dad had been my dad…
It was a $600 car. I was thrilled.