... gift giving and time...

My father’s birthday is this weekend and as always, I am stumped. Whenever Father’s Day rolls around, I remember how different my dad is from other fathers. He doesn’t want a golf shirt, or a tie, or a man cave sign, or beer, or…. You get the picture.

My dad has very specific taste and he’s difficult to shop for because he actually never *wants* anything. He is a man of many projects. I inherited all of my DIY/ we-will-make-this-work skills from him. He saves everything that he thinks can be put to good use. This was a godsend for me for school projects as a kid.

A few years ago, I found the perfect gift. While scrolling through ideas on Amazon, I search for Studebaker. He loved those cars and still owns an Avanti. Holy Hearses! I came across a replica 1937 Studebaker Wagon Hearse With Casket And Flowers. I wanted it for myself but also knew it was the perfect father-daughter gift. Dad isn’t goth. Well, let me rephrase that. Dad doesn’t identify as goth. He has a terribly dry sense of humor that most don’t understand; he’s an introvert who enjoys being alone or with a few close loved ones; he loves scaring people; he worked graveyard shift and is still a night owl; he wears mostly black; he loves Halloween, the macabre and old horror movies… yeah, but he’s not goth. In high school, I had this idea that together Dad and I could rebuilt an old 1950’s hearse and that I could have racing flames with the inscription “Life’s a drag” on the bumper. We looked around old junk yards and the best ones we ever found were too rusted out or needed too much repair. The dream never came to fruition and nowadays with my commute I’m more concerned about gas mileage over living out the dream. A few years ago when I bought a rundown Grandfather clock frame at an antique store, it was my dad who had the idea that it should be repurposed by adding a skeleton and one of those fake Halloween mirrors so that when friends walk by it lights up. But, Dad isn’t goth.

Nevertheless, he loved the replica hearse. The doors, trunk, and hood open (to slide in the coffin) and the gear shift works! The steering wheel even moves the wheels! He put it together with my help (which I insisted. I’m not sure he wanted) and then we played with it.

How in bat’s name am I going to top that? This year he says he wants the gift of time. While I understand he means a dinner date, I still want to find another great present worthy of the man who has pretty much made me the person I am today.