Red cars are cool


My Dad loves red cars. For him no color is better for a car then red. Which is sad really because he's only had 2 red cars in his life.
And I ruined them both.
To be fair the first wasn't entirely my fault. I was only 4 after all. I like to blame Rose.
Dad bought his first red car while I still in the hospital waiting to get that B.B. out of my kidney.(I don't remember the make or model. At 4 years I didn't pay attention to those things. And Dad still won't talk to me about it.) When they would visit Dad would point out the window and ask me what I thought of it.
I thought the top was lovely.
After I came back from the emergency room after cutting my arm, Dad was very happy that I hadn't bled all over his clean white seats. He actually told me that as I lay in bed recovering. Mom said he was just joking. I'm not to sure.
He was so careful about this car that he wouldn't even drive it to work. He would car pool with one of his brothers.
Dad's only mistake was he was cheap. Why pay to wash it when you have 5 kids that'll do it for free? So every Friday before Dad would come home from work my brothers and sister would wash it. One Friday, about 2 months after coming home from the hospital, I wanted to wash it. This was fine with Mom. My brothers were gone fishing ,and it was just me and my sister. Mom got us each a bucket of hot water and soap, turned on the hose and let us loose.
I had fun washing the car. I thought that Dad would be very happy with the job I was doing.
I don't remember when I got the comet and sos pads. I do remember thinking that it would make it easier to clean the car.
For the record Rose thought it was a good idea as well.
Mom had no idea what I was doing. I'm sure she would have stopped me.
When comet and a sos pad meet car paint....The car paint doesn't win.
I didn't understand what I was doing . The more I scratched up his car the more I scrubbed. I swear to god I think I turned part of it pink. And all the while I was happy as I could be. The entire passenger side of that car looked worse then a scratching post. Rose saw what was happening and took off.

Dad came home to find me standing by his car with a can of comet in my hand and a huge smile on my face. He stepped out ,saw the car and his eyes grew inhumanly large. Very strange noises began to come out of his mouth. His hands began to twitch .I think he would have whipped me but I was still covered with bandages and he was afraid I'd break apart into 5 very messy pieces. He was so mad I swear I thought I saw tears coming out of his eyes.
I remember A LOT of yelling that night. All of the kids stayed in our rooms without making a sound.
For the next 2 weeks Dad could not look at me without those strange sputtering noises coming out of his mouth.
Being only four I soon put it out of my mind ( What? Me ruining your car Dad? That's so last week.)
It took a bit more for Dad to stop making growling noises at me .
But that's a different blog.
Dad was so upset he got rid of the car. Or as he called it "that damn piece of crap." Or "Tom's monstrosity ".
He didn't buy another red car for 8 years.
In the summer of 76 Dad bought his new pride and joy. A 1966 red convertible Mustang.



Once again he was proud of his car. He treated it better then most people he knew.
And he never ever let me wash it.
For the next year the only time I saw Dad smile was when he drove his Mustang.
(Let me explain something first. In my family Dad "smiling" meant an absence of a frown.)
Dad was so careful he parked his car in the backyard ,next to the house. He thought if someone would try to steal it he'd hear it.
So early one spring evening while Dad sat in the house secure that his car would not be stolen, I was outside playing with my next door neighbor. We were throwing lawn darts back and forth. In case you don't know lawn darts were the single most dangerous toy ever invented . They consisted of two sets of monstrous darts weighing up to 3 pounds with a spiked end that would bury itself into the lawn. ( Hence lawn dart) The point of the game was to throw your teams dart into a large hoola hoop ring laying on the ground a distance away.
So two 11 year old boys throwing in what any other country would be considered a lethal weapon. What could go wrong?
I wildly threw a dart in the air. It missed the target by a good 50 feet. It did however find the soft fabric top of Dad's Mustang. It tore though the top and buried itself into Dad's seat.
I almost pissed my pants.
Actually no I'm pretty sure I did piss my pants.
I turned around and saw my friend running away. My heart was beating so bad I thought it was going to burst out of my chest. I ran to Dad's car and opened the door. It looked worse then I thought it would. I took the dart out and returned it to the rest of the set. Then I sat on the back door steps shaking like a leaf.
I ran though a list of options.
1. Blame it on Rose.
Nope. She wasn't home.
2. Blame it on John and Geno.
Nope. They might beat me up.
3. Blame Mom.
hmmmm. Nah I couldn't do that. ( It wasn't that I wouldn't . I just couldn't figure out how to blame her and make it stick)
It was fast getting dark and I knew I'd have to go in soon or Dad would come out and see if everything was ok. I looked down and saw a rock by my foot. A thought struck me. I grabbed the rock , ran over to the car and dropped it though the top. It was a little bigger then the hole so it ripped it a little more. I then opened the car door and wiped my finger prints off the rock ( Hey I was 11). I looked around to see if anyone was looking , and then ran into the house. I walked as calmly as I could to the living room and sat down and watched TV with the rest of my family. All the while I couldn't stop thinking that Dad was going to kill me. I went to bed early that night but lay awake till late at night dreading the next day. I was covered in sweat.
The next morning Dad's screaming voice woke me up.
"God Damn Kids!" My heart stopped beating. I heard Dad's footsteps coming up the stairs. My door flew open and Dad came in holding the rock. "Look at this!"
As calmly as I could I asked "What's that?"
Dad stared at me for a minute and then said "Someone threw a rock at my car. Ripped the top!It tore up my seat! Did you see anyone outside last night?"
My heart started beating. " Yeah some high school kids were riding their bikes in the alleyway."
"God Damn kids!"
Dad turned and left my room. I lay back in bed and thought "Cool. I got away with it." Downstairs I heard Dad yelling at Geno and John about "God Damn teenagers!" For the next few weeks anytime Dad saw a high school kid he'd grab me and ask "Does that look like one of them?"
Dad sold his Mustang to John a few months after that.
And I never ever played lawn darts again.
To this day I have never told my Dad.
And I never will.