I was getting into my car to drive to my parents' to drive to my sister's for Father's Day when my mom called. "Wear warm clothes," she warned. "We're taking the Mustang." A couple of years ago, my dad finally bought his dream car, a gently used, painstakingly maintained Mustang convertible, and he drives it every chance he gets.
I'd ridden in it only once, last Father's Day, on an ice cream run. But my sister's was forty minutes from my parents'. So I knew that I needed to bring the big guns in the form of a hoodie and scarf. And I was glad I did! For most of the ride, my face was entirely covered.
Which was just fine with me, because warmth and sun protection in one. Even if my sister said that I looked like "something out of an '80s Grey Gardens."
Anyway, a good time was had by all. It was a day of dad jokes and classic rock (The Cars, as Dad quipped, appropriately included) and baseball talk (the Phillies lost, but they'll get them next time.) We had hot dogs and hamburgers by the pool, and I got to hang out with my nieces and nephew. The seven-month-old had a high time playing with my necklace, which was adorable until she tried to eat it.
On the way to my sister's, we had stopped at Acme so Mom could pick up some ice cream (apparently, the Mustang's programmed to fetch Father's Day dairy). Dad and I waited in the car. He took off his baseball cap and said that his hair was almost all white. I said that it looked good on him, and that I had more white hairs too. When Mom returned, Breyers melting in hand, Dad filled her in on our conversation. I thought that it was poignant that we'd gone from Dad teaching me how to ride a bike and drive a car to us comparing notes about the follicular passage of time.
At the end of the day, Dad thanked Mom and me for humoring him with the Mustang. And although we didn't say so in pun form at the time, wild horses couldn't drag us away.
On that note, I hope that everyone had a happy and memorable Father's Day. Hopefully, with lots of laughs and ice cream. :)