My Dad, Johnny, would have been 108 today. He was born in Fairfield, County Galway, Ireland, on November 11th, 1918. That day was auspicious as it was named Armistice Day, in honour of the end of WW1. There is some confusion as to the actual day of his birth, however. My dad always stated the 11th was his birthday, but his younger sister claimed it was the 12th.
Adding to the confusion, recently I applied and received my Irish passport and as part of the application process I had to provide a recorded birth certificate. That birth certificate recorded his birth as November 13th, 1918. I have my own thoughts about this. Armistice Day was a big holiday in Europe, and the Irish would never miss an opportunity to party. Now I am not saying my dad was drinking, of course not, he was a newborn, but I believe that a few others were probably hammered on 11/11/1918, including the Recorder of Births. I believe that 11/13 was actually the first sober day for that gentleman and oh what a hangover he must have suffered. So 11/11/1918 it is, for me!
My Dad was a wonderful father, somewhat distant, fitting for the period, I suppose. He loved his cars, I guess that’s where I get the disorder from. In 1970, my dad had a black 1962 Vauxhall Velox. He had it for a number of years and he loved that car. I suspect he was feeling an urge to do something to the car to make it feel a little “fresher” for the times and in 1970 Ford introduced the Capri which was a sporty 2-door coupe and it came in different models, some sporty some not. The big attention getter was a version painted in bright yellow with a black bonnet (hood). My dad loved that colour scheme more and more each day. Rather than buy a new Capri, which was out of the question for my dad both financially and because he didn’t like Fords, he decided he was going to paint the Velox in a similar scheme of yellow/black but in his case the bonnet(hood) and boot(trunk) would be yellow leaving the rest of the car’s original black. Not a totally bad idea until he completes the details. He is going to paint it himself, I mean he had experience, he painted the kitchen a little while back. And yes, he was going to brush paint it outside, in the driveway!!
He had heard about this new paint called Polyurethane which was super hard and dried to a smooth finish leaving very few brush stroke marks. What could go wrong, you might ask? With a large degree of (unfounded) confidence his mind was made up. There was one big problem, however. My dad could not, for the life of him, get his Irish brogue around the word “polyurethane.” That’s where I come in. I could pronounce it – I immediately became uniquely valuable. Off the to paint store we would go and once there my dad would declare “We are here to buy 2-gallons of bright yellow……. – Anthony?” I would then yell out “polyurethane!”
Dad painted that car weekend after weekend. Painting then sanding out the bugs, dirt, cigarette ash (he was a chain smoker) and whatever else the bright yellow, very sticky paint would attract. Paint, Sand, Repeat. Paint, Sand, Repeat. We would have to go back to the paint store regularly to buy more “polyurethane” until finally he declared it “Done” – or maybe he was!! I don’t have any pictures of the “finished” item but that is probably a good thing?
It wasn’t too long after the project was deemed completed that a later model Vauxhall Cresta caught his eye at a used car dealer and he traded his beloved Velox for it. But it was a great father/son bonding experience and we had many more with other cars he owned.
Dad passed away in 1975 on November 29th at the age of 57. He had a singular heart attack, likely brought on by his long-term, heavy smoking. I was 18 and my younger brother was 15. My mom never remarried and passed away at 91 in 2011.
