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Question of the Day: What is your favorite memory of working on cars with your dad?

Share you memories and thank your dad in the comments section


Let’s take a moment to say “thank you” to all the dads that gave their sons and daughters a love of cars. Loving cars is often passed down from each generation and we are fortunate to share that passion with the ones we love the most.

So dear readers, What is your favorite memory of working on cars with your dad?

Share you memories and thank your dad in the comments section for passing down a love of cars to you.

David P. Castro
David P. Castro
The Santa Rosa, California native is an experienced automotive and motorsports writer with a passion for American muscle cars. He is a credentialed automotive, NASCAR, and IndyCar reporter that graduated from the University of Nevada. A devoted F1 and NASCAR fan, he currently resides in Phoenix, Arizona with his wife, son, Siberian Husky, Mini Cooper, and 1977 Chevrolet C10.


  1. Being able to hand my Dad the tool he needed next working on his or my car. He did not even ask and I had it in my hand for him.

  2. My mom wanted an opel gt. What she got was an Opel Kadett wagon that made maybe 50 hp. My dad and uncle thought they could up the ponies by rebuilding the original motor. We spent the summer pulling the motor out, having it bored out, adding anything they could think of to get the darn thing to go over 45 mph. Can’t remember ho many times we tweeked to carb to get just a little bit more umpf outta the darn thing. After an entire summer rebuilding the motor and all the sweat of dropping the drive train back in I think we upped the horse power to 60, at best. My english taxi could get out of its way faster, but, it was a fun time bashing elbows with my pops.

  3. My fondest memory of my dad was when he and I went on a 400 mile drive in Colorado on a mini caravan through southern Colorado we had a week of the absolute best time together just him and I driving a 1934 Packard v 12 convertible sedan . It was a special bonding that I cannot explain. I helped him dress in the morning and he drank beers with us when the day was over. He would come over my garage and sit for hours as I worked on my cars just sit for hours he and I together in the car barn. If you guys have your father alive yet do not I mean do not miss the chance to be with him because mine in gone now and I cherish those times with him. It beings a tear to my eye as I write this about him.. Happy motoring from Tony Ficco

  4. My favorite memory with my Dad was every year (60’s & 70’s) we would go to the various dealerships to look at the new cars. Back then there was excitement in seeing the new cars, because there were changes every year. When he was a pilot in the 50’s, one of the guys in his squadron had a XK140. He dream was to one day own a Jag. When he retired in 1986 he bought Jaguar XJSC and he did love that car!!

  5. I can remember traveling from Florida to Cincinnati in a 1946 Nash that was knocking. Somewhere in Georgia Dad finally found a spot he could straddle a ditch, pulled the oil pan and made a makeshift bearing with his belt. Made it on to Cincinnati and he drove the car for a long time like that.

  6. My dad wasn’t really a car guy, but he knew how to work on them. Every time my car broke, he would help me figure what I needed to do to fix it. Then let me use his tools to do so. So, Thanks Dad for all your advice, and loaning me your tools.

  7. I have to agree with Gerald McCain… Back in the 60s, me and my Dad would go down to Glamore Ford In Smithtown L.I. every year to see the new Fords and the changes. But he always ended up buying a Galaxie 500!! My dad loved those !!

  8. My dad bought a ‘66 Pontiac Tempest new when I was 9 years old. He was in sales at the time so he traveled a lot. He overhauled the motor (326 ci) twice and the 2nd time had the cylinders honed out .010”. He let me help him both time, mainly being the “gofer” but I learned a lot about motors at that young age. When he sold the car in ‘71, it had over 200,000 miles.


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