My Dad was cool...

My dad was cool. No, not because he purchased a used monstrosity of 1970 GM design like you see above.

Chris over at "As Seen from Up Here..." wrote about his experience with a slutty Chevrolet Chevette when he was in high school. Lea came out of a long hibernation to confirm the Chevette's slutty behavior in a comment, too! (Welcome back, Lea!) I think it was something in the Chevies of the 1970s. It certainly wasn't any of us.

My experience was driving a dark green 1970 Chevrolet Station Wagon through high school. I don't think I have ever shared this story with my family so fasten your blogosphere seatbelts...

I went to a high school in a well-to-do community. Not only did most of the kids seem to drive presentable cars, but a good sized group of them actually drove cars I'd still only be able to lust after in my heart. There were Camaros and Mustangs, Trans Ams and Celicas! There was also a smattering of more exotic cars... a Porsche 911, an MGB, a Triumph, a Citroen SM and a Lotus Eclat...One dad was a car collector.



So, you'd imagine that I was really mortified driving this big station wagon. Well, no...

The problem with those desirable cars was the same problem Chris had with the Chevette. No Room!! However, the wagon could easily accommodate a friend, his girlfriend and most anything they'd need to make themselves comfortable.

Friends can help friends in a number of ways. Here's the way it worked.

Around 8, I'd meet a friend and his girlfriend at a predetermined location, usually (and stupidly) close to the high school 6 blocks east of my home. We'd swap keys and determine a time to meet back up. I'd have the evening cruising the streets of Omaha in a nice Mustang or a really cool Lotus. Of course, I have no idea what they did.

So, what's all this got to do with my dad and his coolness factor?

One evening, 2 blocks into my evening of fancy car cruising,
I stopped at the light at 90th and Pacific just a few blocks from home. I think I was driving Mike's Porsche 911. My head was swimming with ideas of where I'd drive, who I might take along or something. I heard a honk and turned my head to see what fool I'd be leaving in my exhaust fumes when the light changed.



The orange Toyota beside me was no match for the Porsche. I had it made! When I met the aggressive gaze of the other driver, my Dad just nodded and turned his eyes back to the road.

I believe I chose to turn right. So clever I was!


Since there were no cell phones to frantically call Mike, I met up with him at the appointed time and spedt home. I made it in the door and crept halfway down the stairs to my basement bedroom when the door to the upstairs opened.

"I don't know why you were driving that car. I don't know where our car was. I do know you won't be able to drive any car ever again if that happens again."
And, I swear, he snickered.

Needless to say that was the end of my exotic car cruising.

My Dad was cool.

Oh, yeah...Bro? Never, ever sleep on the mattress on that fold out bed Mom has in the basement, okay?