Another Father’s Day. Pam, my saint of a wife, took good care of me. This year marked a return to doing more normal Father’s Day stuff. Breakfast at Porta Via in Beverly Hills. Followed by a stroll down Rodeo Drive to look at the classic cars that are on display every Father’s Day.

While Pam was happy at brunch, inching our way down a crowded Rodeo drive gawking at cars we most likely have seen before was no fun for her. I appreciate her sacrifice for my benefit. If I am lucky, I may be able to get her to ride shotgun in my 89 Porsche 911 Carrera Targa this afternoon when we drive to Shelby’s to see the grandkids. I probably shouldn’t press my luck, though.

The car selection this year was really varied. We saw everything from old to new. We saw sports cars and sedans. We saw hot rods and SUVs. Surprisingly, there was a large collection of 1950s Cadillacs, a brand that I used to enjoy.

Shockingly, the highlight of the show for me was not the smallish collection of Porsches, though there were some really nice ones, but the 1959 Cadillac, the model with the fins on each side and the iconic twin horizontal taillights on each fin.

The 59 on Rodeo Drive was white. The same color as the one my dad owned. My dad owned a four-door sedan. The one on Rodeo Drive was a convertible. It didn’t matter to me. Just seeing the one today brought back a host of memories.

The 59 was the last nice car my dad owned. He bought it because his business partner, who could not drive, wanted it. He bought it before my mom started losing large sums of money gambling. Frankly, I think he was more comfortable in his pickup trucks with manual steering and brakes and the 3-on-the-tree manual transmissions than he ever was with the fins and twin taillights, power steering and brakes and automatic transmission. Personally, I liked the fins and taillights and the air conditioning in the Cadillac.

That is not to say that my dad did not like cars. He did. He just like functional ones more than stylish ones. He was a child of the depression after all.

My dad was not good at spending money on himself, mainly because he spent all his money funding my mom’s gambling habit and raising my sister and me. He was generous to a fault, always putting everyone else’s needs before his own. He was happy just having a family, something he never expected. I did not understand that growing up but really appreciate it now.

My dad was a bachelor for a long time. He got married at 39 and had me when he was 40, which in 1955 was really old to have a first child. I was three or four when he got the 59, old enough to be fascinated by the taillights. He married my mom thinking she could not have kids. I was a life changing surprise for him. One that he cherished.

My dad was always there for me. He could not have done more for me or my sister. The only times I lost my temper with him were when he let my mother’s gambling run amok. I thought he could control it. I thought wrong, but I still blamed him for it. Maybe I shouldn’t have.

So, Dad, I spent the morning thinking about being a dad. Once I saw the 59, I spent a couple of hours remembering and appreciating you. You would have loved spending the late afternoon with us when we visit our grandkids. Happy Father’s Day. Love ya.