Usually with a smile on his face, but sometimes muttering uncontrollably and shaking his head, Dad fixed quite a few of my automotive indiscretions over the years.
Dents were the deal with my first car, the green Vega. Body work was also common for my "Silver Bullet" pickup. He also kept my older sister's Chevy II running long enough that you could splash yourself through the floorboards if you went through a mud puddle, and later, a '59 Plymouth known as the "Batmobile." My younger brother and sisters stories were similar as well.
Of coarse, he fixed a lot of things other than cars, over the years. He would tell you it was just part of his job of being our dad. Believe me, it was more than that.
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