A Ferrari From My Father
When I was sixteen I told my dad I wanted a car for my birthday.
He laughed. There was about the same chance that he would walk in the front door with a giraffe on a leash as there was for me to get a car.
My dad was a great guy. Engineer, super fascinated by the first computer he saw which was the size of a large room. His own childhood had many challenges, and he made sure his kids did not have the same challenges.
He worked hard, was kind, and loved our mom.
He taught his kids a lot about money management. He told me, “Cathy, ALWAYS have savings. It’s not IF you will be hit with a financial disaster, it’s WHEN.”
So, in accordance with a VERY conservative money outlook, his parents survived the depression after all, there would be no cars for his kids on their sixteenth birthdays.
However, he did buy me the almost-exact model of this red Ferrari. It fit in the palm of my hand.
“Happy Birthday,” he told me. “Here’s your car, Cathy.”
When I saw this Ferrari outside of my local Starbucks it brought back all those sweet memories of my late father.
