By Larry Teren
As I got past the teenage years, my father stopped trying to do me favors; well- for the most part. Once in my very early twenties he suggested I make a date to take out the sister-in-law of a younger friend of his. I emphatically explained to him that I did not call up girls on blind dates. I first had to, you know, see what they looked like. Not that I had Errol Flynn looks but I had to protect my fragile ego.
Dad pushed the issue. He was even willing to lend me his car on a Saturday night. Huh? The only time I got his gold colored 1970 Chevrolet was when I would first drive Ma to the Mayflower Supermarket to let her shop for food. Then, and only then, could I use the car afterward. Of course, with the deliberateness of the method Ma employed while out shopping in a large grocery store, it meant that I could expect to have the car to myself no earlier than 9pm.
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