The years spent working on my 1962 Ford Fairlane 500 were probably the most valuable of all the time I spent with my dad. Besides being time during which I learned more Things Per Minute than any other from him, it was also one of those rare sorts of situations we see a lot in movies but seldom in life where a bond forms ("Good talk, Russ.") between a father and son. I loved the car, but seeing that Ford man in his element--and all for me, it seemed--was the best part.

Unfortunately, my dad wasn't going to get this car when all was finished up: I was. And yet he deserved some sort of reward for his hard work--so a dream took shape in my mind during those trips to the shop. His favorite Ford, with good reason, was the 1957 Thunderbird. So when I got older and had made a fair amount of money, I would buy my pop a restored '57 T-bird--a full cherry, ready to roll. I envisioned him being very happy indeed to receive his gift.

Then I heard this Marc Cohn song, and the dream completed itself! It was a song that had virtually been written about my dad, after all: his pocket comb is one of my fondest memory tidbits, he did get up damn early and he sure as hell was "the man with the plan". I would therefore paint the 'Bird silver. I would take him to the driveway, ask him to take me around the block, and 'Silver Thunderbird' would start to play as we drove off. Perfect!

Except for one thing: "When I got up, he was gone."