My Father's Caves

My dad had many caves. In his youth, and trying to avoid being around his own cavedad, my father found comfort with cars and motorcycles. He often spoke about the cars he would some how acquire, beginning when he was about 14-years old. Whether running or not, cars were my dad's first caves.

Marriage to my mom brought my dad to the facts that dealing with a cave-car usually meant that he had to be apart from the assisting in the creating cavebabies thing. Hence, the reclining chair, in the corner of the living room, of his then-two bedroom home. It was probably much more comfortable than any car or motorcycle seat, and in close proximity to my parents bedroom and...

After the accomplishments of my father's attempts at assisting in the creation of cavebabies, he once again returned to vehicles to possibly avoid the requirements implied on him by my mother to assist in raising the cavebabies he assisted in the creation of. Lots of true cavemen try for some time to avoid the raising of the cavebabies. In my case is worked pretty darn well for my father as you will read further down. I never really felt the way my father felt and I was, and still very much involved with my, extremely brilliant, wonderfully talented, ridiculously good looking, and very loving sons.

When I was about 5-years old, my dad brought home a 1935 Ford Pick-up truck. For the next several years my father accomplished what is called a "frame-off" restoration. There is a picture of my sister and I standing in the middle of the freshly painted frame setting on our driveway.
When my dad wasn't at work, in his recliner, pouring the concrete for the many slabs in our backyard, or attempting to assist, you know what I mean, he was working on the truck.

My dad did take us camping while he did the other things. That is a perfectly normal thing for a real caveman to do. He also fished, so he gathered.

During the time of the 1935 Ford, my dad used a variety of cars to get to and from work. My mom had a used 1955 Ford station wagon, until she got our first brand car. It was a 1962, baby blue, four door, Ford Falcon. She got the new car because she was starting her student teaching a school some distance away from our home AND she did an unthinkable thing shortly before we got the new car.

Mom drove herself to Cal State Long Beach to finish her classes that led to her teaching credential. On day my dad came home from work and found the front fender and grill dented on the old 1955 station wagon. My dad learned that my mom had did the unthinkable...she hit a beer truck. Cavemen drink beer. It probably would have been less troublesome to my father if my mother had driven into a Sunday school classroom, filled with kids and parents. But she hit a beer truck. Oh my!

With that incident finally cleared, my dad finished his truck and let it sit in our one-car garage while the brand new Ford rested in the driveway. Then, the pick-up was sold and my dad bought a used 1962 Ford Econoline van he painted.....green.

The van was then his ultimate escape vehicle to visit what was to become his largest cave. As a boy my cavedad would take his caveson on trips to the desert for many reasons. He was able to get away from the house on his day off, usually a Thursday when I was "sick". from school. He was also taking the trip to scope out locations for a new cave. He was also able to drink beer during his drive. On one of these trips, my dad decided Lucerne Valley, in the Mojave Desert might be a good place of a new cave. First he bought 10 acres that he contemplated building a house on. After some years of no progress, he found and bought a house on three acres of land just off the main road.

The Lucerne Valley cave was bigger than our regular home that had grown to three-bedrooms when I was nine-years old. The L.V. house had three bedrooms, too. But it also had a fireplace in the living room, a dining room, a den with another fireplace, and it all came with a concrete pool behind the home. This cave would become my fathers cave for the next decade and a half.
My dad would go to his giant cave three our of four sets of off days he had from work. In time, the old recliner in our living room vanished and my dad got a new recliner for his ultimate cave.

After my dad retired from work, he sold his Lucerne Valley cave and moved to Mexico. He had long since given up on dealing with his cavekids and he no longer seemed interested in assisting in anything, more or less. He seemed very happy first in one of those converted trailers, placed in an all-American enclave, along the coast of Baja. His final Mexico cave what the brightest yellow house on a hill just before you drove south into Ensanada, on the Cota Road. Folks could see that thing for miles. It stood out like a ripe banana surrounded by bunches of blackened fruit and sage brush.

I brought my cavedad home, with the assistance of my own caveson in about 1998. Dad was injecting Insulin and not getting along too well south of the border. My wife and I took him to our local furniture store for him to pick out the brand new furniture for his apartment in town.
He walked around the store and pointed at almost ever piece of furniture he wanted purchased, without so much as a second glance. Tables, sofas, a bed, dining furniture, lamps, T.V. stand, all were selected almost instantly.

But you already know that one piece of furniture selected needed to be tried out, carefully selected, color coordinated, easily workable, and ultimately, the most comfortable. Go ahead, say it....I don't need to.