What Cars and Coffee is…

(or at least should be) about.

whoa – alternative universe time

This guy showed up around 10 a.m. in a ’95 Taurus that had seen its share of sun and commuting drudgery.  In tow were a couple of cute-as-a-button moppets.  Just the three: no mom, for whatever reason.

Dad had stars in his eyes – Ferraris, Porsches, Alfas everywhere. But wait.

“Oh my goodness, kids! It’s a Lamborghini Miura! This is my favorite car! “
 “Wow, daddy, that one’s green!”
“Kids!  Look at THAT!

And so on.

After 40 minutes or so, I saw them drive off out the front entrance, sandwiched between Vipers and Camaros doing monstrous burnouts, and the 20-somethings trying not to stall dad’s BMW in front of the gathered “carparazzi.” Just like when he rolled up and parked in the middle of million-dollar dream machines, the man belonged that morning. He had stories to tell the guys on Monday.

And, most of all, he had two happy kiddos, bundled up in their booster seats with some hot cocoa. Happy for the adventure. Happy for the time with Dad. Happy because Daddy was happy. The man had won that morning.  He was “Dad.”
For me as well, it was a grail car sighting. A Lamborghini Miura that wasn’t a museum piece. There were actually two of them. Pics will assuredly follow. But my little moppets aren’t so little, and don’t relish Daddy’s little victories quite so much.

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