[jhein]

Originally Posted by tinindian68

It’s really hard for me to write this. My dad passed away a few days ago and I don’t think I’ve fully come to grips with it. My dad was the one who even entertained the idea that I get into old cars to start. I remember being 14 and having stacks of Hot Rod, Car Craft, and High Performance Pontiac magazines. My dad was handy, but definitely not a car person or mechanic.

We were taking a ride, just he and I, to visit my grandmother that lived about 45 minutes away. I spotted a 68 Firebird at the back of a small used car lot. This was 1994. The car was pretty rough. I think my dad’s belief in me far outweighed my actual ability to fix this car.

It was $1500. Looking back, and knowing what I know now about cars, it was probably about right, but for me it may as well been $15,000. We finished our trip and came home. The next day, the car was in my driveway. A surprise from my father to me. My mother was less than enthused. My mom was very well aware of my abilities and thought this whole thing was a terrible idea.

That car was the one. The one that started my passion for cars, and especially for Pontiacs. By the time I was ready to drive, I had the Firebird looking pretty good. Lots of body work and paint, interior and a transmission rebuild and it was ready to go. It was my daily for years.

I’ve owned around 50 cars since then but none as special as that car. I still have it. It’s crazy to find such comfort in a thing, but when I sit in that car I can still feel my dad next to me. We had some great times and built some wonderful memories together thanks to that car. His health had been declining for a while now and I know that he’s in a better place now.

One of the last conversations I had with him was about the Firebird. I found a nice original 400 hood for it after looking for almost 20 years. He’s smiled when I told him about it. His eyes lit up when I told him it’s also got a factory hood tach.

Thank you dad, for always being in my corner no matter what, and instilling good old common sense and strong values into me as we worked on this car together.

That's a great story and it's beyond the greatest, coolest thing ever that you still have that car.

And, I'm very sorry for your loss.