Dads.

The way I see it. We are a product of our father. He is the product of his father. And before that, it was before WWII and we have to one here to talk about what his dad did and was.
I can tell you that my father was born in Nova Scotia Canada. His father was born in Nova Scotia as well. Different counties, but still, turn of the century 1910 was a long time ago. No TV. You ride your horse to the neighbour down the road.
Just two generations back. His obit. http://www.angelfire.com/ca4/patsy/obits/obit414.html
He was a guitar player and singer, I was told they called him the singing cowboy but, who wasn’t back then. I guess he played with Hank Snow. But who didn’t.
He also worked for Warren Paving, throughout The province.
He named my dad, Tex. After Tex Ritter. He had him with a tiny Eisener girl in Lunenburg county. Then after 5 years he fucked off somewhere.
The story I got was he had an oath with another guy that he would take care of his wife if he went missing in the war. My dad was born in 1940, so in ’45 my dad had to grow up without his father.
So the point I’m getting to, is Cars.

What did men do before the war? Fathers must have been pretty boring…
The men who came back from the war were so shell shocked, that the missed the noise. Bootlegging was always around and once cars became a way to move product, well there had to be a fast car to do the job.
Cars. Fast Cars. Every boy in school, every father in every yard, was looking to make a fast car. It was the guy thing. Dads made cars work and were cool. And Raced.
So, I wanna make cars run good and be cool too. Race.
My dad joined the military when he was 15. Somehow he got away with it because there wasn’t much security in the military.
He became a mechanic. A damned good mechanic. And a mill wright and a jack of all trades and master of most. But his name was Tex.
His dad gave him a name he had to live up to. He became an alcoholic who could tune your car to perfection.
He met my mom in Germany and brought her to Canada. I was born in 1965 and by 1975 he was gone. Walked away.

Drunken asshole who paid the bills.
My Dad.
Fuck. I don’t wanna be my dad.

I love Cars.
It’s the one thing that I got that I love about knowing my dad. He’s still out there somewhere…. dying alone…
This generation of dads aren’t into cars like we were. Some like cars but in a different more fuel efficient way. Their dads played video games.
I was there when TV went from black and white to colour.
Who are we? What the fuck happened to the human race?
Why do we have this need to reproduce and consume?
The population on Earth has doubled since 1968.
WTF!
I couldn’t take it so I chose to find a reason to stay on Earth and not die like millions do each year without a purpose.
Thank you Dad for being such a dick.
And thank you for making me in 1965.
This is the best time in history.
Cars are still so cool.

If I could own any car, it would be one like this.

http://smclassiccars.com/dodge/51154-1968-dodge-dart-gts-440-4speed.html

My dad taught me to drive, in one like it, during the summer of ’75 when I was 10.
I don’t know what kind of dad I have been. That is something you would have to ask my kids.
I never made a car run and I never raced.