🎉 Drive Down Memory Lane with Dad: Share Your Best Rides Together

Share Your Heartwarming Tales

Hi guys! It's time to take a nostalgic trip down memory road and celebrate the special moments shared with our dads behind the wheel. As Father's Day approaches, we invite you to reminisce about those cherished memories, whether it was your first driving lesson, family road trips, or routine school drop-offs.

Exciting Rewards Await

We're not just reminiscing; we're celebrating! We will select 6 lucky winners based on the number of likes received on their comments (If the number of likes is the same, the comment with the earliest time will be selected).

To reward our winners, we have prepared generous prizes as follows:

1st Prize: A Lasfit #LAP-TK1 Portable Air Pump;

2nd Prize: Lasfit T3 Front Turn Signal (2 LED Bulbs) + Backup Light (2 LED Bulbs) + License Plate Light (2 LED Bulbs) Set;

3rd Prize: Lasfit T15 LED Bulbs (2 LED Bulbs).


How to Participate

1. Upload those heart-tugging images that capture your best rides with your father together.

2. Accompany them with a short story that describes the scene's meaning.

3. Don't forget to mention your vehicle's make/model/year in the comment.

The promotion runs from June 13th to June 17th. Let's make this Father's Day one to remember, honoring the man who guided us through life's twists and turns. Head to the comments section NOW and let the storytelling begin!

2024 Maverick hybrid XLT

Of course like all sons, I have many memories of my father. One of my strongest and fondest memories was loading the family up in my father’s late fifties model Pontiac and heading off to “the country” to visit his war buddy and his family. This was when they were both still young men with even younger families. Yet, I remember clearly they called each other “Pappy” and “Old Man”. The country then was undeveloped rural land that was in the future to become Dulles International Airport outside of Washington, DC.

Those were the days when a kid could stand up behind the front bench seat and look over his father’s shoulder as he shifted through all three forward gears with a column-mounted shift lever. If you were small enough, and I was, you could also lay down on the shelf under the back window and pretend to be able to read your brother’s nickel comic books. Of course that lasted only so long before you became car sick. The trip was also long enough that I can remember proudly standing by the side of the road in-line with my father and older brother as a trio relieving ourselves.

Arriving at Pappy’s meant being greeted by the inevitable pack of free roaming dogs, and a small herd of barn cats intermixed with an unknown number of chickens. The day would be spent with my father teaching me how to hook a worm to my line and cast into the small stock pond. With any luck we would bring to the bank a vigorously fighting Bluegill which would be given to the patiently awaiting cats. The surrounding wood line offered an opportunity of expeditions to discover long lost civilizations represented by dilapidated tree houses and to fight off hordes of hostile Indians.

My brother and I were always attuned to a call from my Dad or his friend to “bring us another”. That meant running to the ice cooler beside the back door, grabbing two cans of Carling Black Label beer, from the cooler’s icy water, searching for the ‘church key’ can opener, and running as fast as we could to where the two men were sitting and talking in the back yard. The routine never changed. My brother and I always asked if we could open the cans. Pappy and the Old Man knew without doubt that there was going to be a follow on question. After opening the cans, “Can I have a sip?” It wasn’t that I particularly liked the taste of beer, but that I was able to share with my father and his friend a manly activity.

I don’t remember much of the drives home at the end of the day. That inevitably meant my father carrying a sleeping kid up to his bed.

Most memorable moment, many decades ago: My dad was giving me my first driving lesson in the F-250 farm truck. I had been driving the tractors for several years already. We were driving between farms, so not going very fast. When it was time to slow down, I stepped on the brake much like I would with the tractors - lots of force. See the tractors did not have power brakes and I didn't know the truck had power brakes. Nearly launched my dad through the windshield. (No seatbelts back then) He quickly braced himself on the dash and was not hurt. He just said 2 words - "power brakes". And we went on driving.

Those cross-country trips to visit relatives in Chicago and Florida. First treks were in a 1955 Nash station wagon. No A/C, just a water cooler mounted on the side window. Useless in humid weather. My dad was the kind who only stopped for fuel and bathroom breaks . . . we drove straight through. I was too young to drive, so it was up to my parents. Got pretty stinky in that small car.
Later years we upped our cross country buggy to a 1960 Rambler with a 6 cylinder and real A/C. Still drove non-stop.

It's just Dad and me and he pulls into the local ARCO station for a fill-up of his all-time favorite car, our '57 DeSoto. I'm not paying much attention (daydreaming I'm sure, like I still do), and before the poor attendant can even get out the door we're FLYING out onto the highway, gravel flying everywhere (that DeSoto could burn rubber, believe me). I look up and I can tell Dad is mad as hell, gripping the steering wheel and clenching his teeth. He looks at me and yells, "IT WILL BE A COLD DAY IN HELL WHEN I PAY THIRTY-SEVEN-NINE FOR A GALLON OF PREMIUM!"

The Race
Being born in 1960 I have many fond memories of my father, but the earliest one that I remember was in 1964 when the Plymouth barracuda came out. My dad had a 1963 Plymouth fury four-door with push button console that was bright red with the red vinyl interior. He had swapped out six cylinder engine for a 318 V8 with a four barrel carburetor.
We We’re parked at a stoplight with me and my two brothers in the backseat when a 1964 Plymouth barracuda pulled up beside us and revved his engine. My father instructed all of us to sit all the way in our seats ( there were no seatbelts that I could recall ). He push the low button on the push button console, and when the light turned green, he floored it.
Needless to say, the driver of the barracuda was quite surprised when we beat him to the next light. He probably was also a bit humiliated that there were three kids in the backseat. It was really cool having a dad that grew up with you as he was only about 23 at the time.

One of my favorite memories was a ride we took on my dad’s new 1969 Honda 350CL. I was about 11 years old and we headed out around my grandparents neighborhood. We came along the highway and were above it some what on a parallel road so being it was a scrambler my dad started heading down this embankment toward the highway. What he didn’t realize was there were giant ruts from water drainage in this embankment and things started getting bad real fast. We started bouncing around and all the sudden the bike goes over and we start rolling down the hill. Kind of embarrassed, my dad gets up and checks on me then we upright the bike, climb on and head back to my grandmothers. It was one of those moments we never talked about because we both knew if mom found out the bike would be gone.

Lost Dad before he was able to give me driving lessons. But he did take us on a memorable road trip in the mid 80's before he later died in that same car in an accident, we took his 1985ish 300ZX from Southern California up to Oregon and over to Jackson Hole and back down through a few national parks, something I also credit my Mom for letting us go since they were divorced. It's almost like he knew he wouldn't be here much longer. Favorite memories include truck stop cassette tape purchases, a white water rafting trip on the Snake River on the OR/ID border, and me holding a halogen spotlight on my Dad as he journeyed down the hill from a Vista Point to take pictures of some Moose and also then our next stop at a historic hotel where they told us he was pretty dumb for doing that and could've gotten moose stomped. Dad had no real plan or reservations, just some maps from AAA and a couple weeks to spend with his boys. And after he passed Mom made us each an album of all of the 35mm pictures he took on that trip, not enough with him in them, but still a cherished memory. Happy Father's Day to all the Dads.

There was only ever one ride. As the 4th of 5 siblings, family road trips didn't happen much and didn't really count for any of us as parent bonding time. But there was that one that was completely different because it combined two elements that made it memorable.

My Dad was a long-haul trucker who made two round trips a week from Derby, CT to Hamilton, Ontario hauling comic books and magazines or paper back.

One summer, when I was probably about 13, he took me with him. This was going to be two days riding in a semi, just him and me, and staying in a hotel overnight. What more could a young kid want?

We got up early on a Monday morning, about 4:00 AM, and drove to the terminal where his truck was waiting, all loaded and ready to go. I watched him go through his mechanical and safety checklist, then clambered up into the passenger seat. The truck was a White Freightliner pulling a 53' trailer, so it was bouncy and noisy but I could see everything.

Our route took us up CT Route 8 through Torrington, where my cousins lived, but then on to Rt. 44 in Winsted. Everything past Torrington was new territory for me. We made a breakfast stop at a truck stop somewhere near the MA/CT state line as the sun was just up. Then it was back on the road to the Mass Pike and points west.

In spite of the distance covered on that outbound leg, the trip never got boring. I was seeing, for the first time, places I'd never been while riding in a semi and seeing what my father did every working day of his life.

I remember somewhere on the NY State Thruway, he was in the center lane passing a white sedan when the sedan driver started picking up speed and pacing him. We were only a few miles from our exit and we needed to get back in the right lane, but the sedan driver wouldn't let us pass or fall back behind. I can still see that sedan bouncing through the grass just beyond the breakdown lane when my Dad decided he'd had enough and was not going to miss his exit.

That afternoon, I watched him maneuver that rig through a narrow Buffalo street and back it into a loading dock in one smooth movement that would put modern truckers to shame.

That night, we stayed at a Holiday Inn in Hamilton and I got my own room. So this was a bunch of firsts on top of a level of one-on-one time I'd never had before or since. Within less than 10 years, he retired from driving. Truck deregulation had started and he didn't want to be on the road with the "gypsy" truckers who were coming into the industry. By then, I was in the Navy, and he had moved to Ontario to run the warehouse we'd delivered to. In 1976, he gave me a temp job there so I could earn money to get me and my '68 Camaro to San Diego, where I'd decided to launch my adult life.

Dad lived to the ripe old age of 95.

(2022 Maverick XLT Eco AWD)

A little late to this party, dad's been gone a bunch of years and I never had kids so I kinda forget about father's day most of the time.

I do recall one summer, after his cancer diagnosis he asked if I wanted to go on a road trip? Of course, road trips are great fun and time with pop was important.
I took a couple days off work and we headed out on a gorgeous Tuesday or Wednesday. I don't even recall where all we went, even though it was two days of driving we were probably never further than an hour or two from the city, just in case something came up health wise but we sure toured around the countryside.
Visiting family, friends, the old farm, the older farm, the really old family farm where great grandpa started out, what a spread that place must have been, I think it was 2 full sections at it's peak.

Looking back it's kinda melancholy because at the time he wasn't really telling us kids much about the cancer diagnosis but now I realize he knew what the score was... Ass cancer doesn't usually go away even with one of the best cancer centers in the country.
It wasn't our last trip and he fought it off for another year or two and got to spend a bunch of time vacationing in Hawaii but we agreed, that was probably the best trip we ever had, just a couple days on the road ticking off miles.

AbnRgr said:

2024 Maverick hybrid XLT

Of course like all sons, I have many memories of my father. One of my strongest and fondest memories was loading the family up in my father’s late fifties model Pontiac and heading off to “the country” to visit his war buddy and his family. This was when they were both still young men with even younger families. Yet, I remember clearly they called each other “Pappy” and “Old Man”. The country then was undeveloped rural land that was in the future to become Dulles International Airport outside of Washington, DC.

Those were the days when a kid could stand up behind the front bench seat and look over his father’s shoulder as he shifted through all three forward gears with a column-mounted shift lever. If you were small enough, and I was, you could also lay down on the shelf under the back window and pretend to be able to read your brother’s nickel comic books. Of course that lasted only so long before you became car sick. The trip was also long enough that I can remember proudly standing by the side of the road in-line with my father and older brother as a trio relieving ourselves.

Arriving at Pappy’s meant being greeted by the inevitable pack of free roaming dogs, and a small herd of barn cats intermixed with an unknown number of chickens. The day would be spent with my father teaching me how to hook a worm to my line and cast into the small stock pond. With any luck we would bring to the bank a vigorously fighting Bluegill which would be given to the patiently awaiting cats. The surrounding wood line offered an opportunity of expeditions to discover long lost civilizations represented by dilapidated tree houses and to fight off hordes of hostile Indians.

My brother and I were always attuned to a call from my Dad or his friend to “bring us another”. That meant running to the ice cooler beside the back door, grabbing two cans of Carling Black Label beer, from the cooler’s icy water, searching for the ‘church key’ can opener, and running as fast as we could to where the two men were sitting and talking in the back yard. The routine never changed. My brother and I always asked if we could open the cans. Pappy and the Old Man knew without doubt that there was going to be a follow on question. After opening the cans, “Can I have a sip?” It wasn’t that I particularly liked the taste of beer, but that I was able to share with my father and his friend a manly activity.

I don’t remember much of the drives home at the end of the day. That inevitably meant my father carrying a sleeping kid up to his bed.

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LOVE this story... i vividly remember trips to michigan or tennessee riding on the transmission hump almost the whole way. you would be arrested as a parent for that nowadays.

Hi guys! We would like to express our sincere gratitude for your overwhelming response and active participation in our Heartwarming Tales contest. Your heartwarming stories and cherished memories have truly touched our hearts.

After reviewing all the comments, based on the number of likes, we are thrilled to announce the lucky winners of our contest. Congratulations to the following participants:

1st prize: @AbnRgr @Dad

2nd prize: @Gray Goose @Franklin

3rd prize: @mspmms @Dochatley

To all the winners, please check your private messages immediately. We will reach out to you with further details on how to claim your prizes.

We would also like to thank those who did not win this time. Don't worry, we have more exciting promotions and giveaways planned for the future. Stay tuned for the latest updates and information!

Once again, thank you all for sharing your heartwarming tales and making this Father's Day truly memorable.

LASFIT said:

Hi guys! We would like to express our sincere gratitude for your overwhelming response and active participation in our Heartwarming Tales contest. Your heartwarming stories and cherished memories have truly touched our hearts.

After reviewing all the comments, based on the number of likes, we are thrilled to announce the lucky winners of our contest. Congratulations to the following participants:

1st prize: @AbnRgr @Dad

2nd prize: @Gray Goose @Franklin

3rd prize: @mspmms @Dochatley

To all the winners, please check your private messages immediately. We will reach out to you with further details on how to claim your prizes.

We would also like to thank those who did not win this time. Don't worry, we have more exciting promotions and giveaways planned for the future. Stay tuned for the latest updates and information!

Once again, thank you all for sharing your heartwarming tales and making this Father's Day truly memorable.

Click to expand...

Sent a PM - AbnRgr

AbnRgr said:

Sent a PM - AbnRgr

Click to expand...

Molly - Another PM sent.

What can be more valuable then a few moments reminiscing about the special times you had growing up with your Dad and your Mom ? My parents had a 1956 VW Bug. I wouldn't consider it to be a tow vehicle, but my Dad made it into one by pulling a small pop up camper. We had a lot of fun camping, but that was the only time we pulled a trailer with that vehicle. The Peoples car was not designed to do anything like that. We were lucky that it didn't tear off the rear bumper. An interesting feature of the VW was it did not have a fuel gauge. You had to keep track somewhat of the miles you drove between fill ups. Dad would open the hood because that is where the gas tank was, engine was in the rear, He would use the dip stick to determine how much fuel was left. Ah, those were the days.