A proud day

[TonyL]

Over 25 years ago my dad parked the vehicle that taught me the love for speed, racing and the sound of a cackling V8; his yellow 57 chevy truck. I remember sitting in the seat next to my dad in awe of how it sounded with it's huge cam rumping so hard the truck lurched forward as if trying to break free at every stop light. The way it smelled, and how fast it would go, the way it pressed you into the seat when some guy challenged him in it and my dad decided to show him what it was made of. One day he decided to upgrade the truck to make it a real show truck. It'd have a big block now, a nova clip up front and a 9 inch out back with 4 wheel disks, nice paint, new oak and some fleetside inner fenders in the bed to accommodate 14 inch meats out back , the works. He completely disassembled it, installed the nova front clip and had the truck media blasted, and then life caught up with him. The drain of us kids and all the things we needed took president and his truck sat in a million pieces and in plastic baggies around the garage.

It became something of a joke. We all grew up, built cars in the garage pushing his truck further and further back in the corner. My dad never batted an eye, and sacrificed all of his midlife building cars with us while his dream sat unfulfilled.

He'd always say he'd get around to it. He'd start, sand a panel, or fidget with something, and then he'd get caught up in something else. The next thing you know 20 years had gone by.

A year ago my dad was diagnosed with Parkinson's disease. He retired from his job. In less than a year the disease ravaged my once impossibly strong father. The weight loss was astonishing. He did a few projects around his house like most newly retired guys do. But as his abilities dwindled his attention suddenly turned back his truck. He knew he was running out of time to finish it himself. Not but 4 months ago he started in earnest, working like a madman towards his dream. Up at 5 am and working till 9 at night every day, to the point of exhaustion. His rotator cuff gave out, he had surgery. and with his arm still in a sling, he was out there. With one arm, doing what he could.

We all pitched in as much as we could as often as we could, My oldest brother and he working almost every day on the project. He could not be stopped, or made to slow down on his truck. He wanted it done. NOW. To my amazement, in what seemed like over night he and my brothers built that truck right there in his garage. Everything. Even the paint.

The last time I sat in my father's complete truck, my feet didn't reach the pedals. I remember making VROOM VROOM sounds as I pretended to be my dad, jamming the gears in it.

Today, over 25 years later, I climbed up in the seat and drove it. For real.
Coolest. Feeling. Ever.