So Happy Father's Day to all the Dads we know, particularly Pop, Grandpa, and the person we're proud to call the Dad of this family--Tom.
Tom drives a 1972, promenade gold, Eldorado Cadillac convertible.
Because he’s a musician. Because he’s cool. Because he’s into cars. Because he found it on eBay. Because it’s big.
Because the center of his world is occupied by others: his teenagers, his wife, his wife’s job, his business, his family, his friends, the Knights of Columbus, the Crash Daddies, the lawn.
He bought the Cadillac for himself, and the fun and funky pieces of his personality took center stage. You have to have a sense of humor and a hunk of chutzpah to drive around in the “Superfly” car.
Tom spends part of every Saturday washing and buffing the beast. The car glows, not with a shiny new sparkle, but with the radiance of a classic that’s been around a few blocks, quite a few times.
Family drives with the roof down attract attention, grins, and one or two Cadillac buffs. His kids feel like celebrities, waving as if they’re in a parade. His wife wraps a headscarf on, adds black sunglasses, and becomes glamour-girl for an hour. The passengers absorb the automobile’s aura, unconsciously acquiring selected attributes.
Maybe this Cadillac isn’t in as perfect condition as the one that starred in the 70’s blaxploitation film “Superfly.”
Maybe it can’t play the lead guitar riffs Tom recorded with his blues/rock band the Crash Daddies—no CD player.
But its silent but massive presence, like Tom, is a throwback to the styles, values and traditions of past decades.