My favorite memory of a classic car is the one of my Dad's 1965 Corvair Corsa. The Corvair engine has a specific sound, and I could always tell as a little boy when my Dad was getting home from work. When I knew it was time for him to get home, I would start to listen for the sound of the car. When I would hear it I would stop what I was doing and wait by the driveway for him to come up the street. Many times, when he would see me he would stop the car and tell me to get in. I would, and no matter how tired he may have been from working all day, or if Mom had dinner waiting, he would take me for a ride. It was usually a cruise through town and around. It only lasted about a half hour, but it was just me and Dad time. I will always cherish that memory. Today, Dad is gone, but I still have his Corvair sitting in my garage. I restored it about ten years ago and take my own sons for rides in it just like my Dad did with me. When there are times that I am really missing my Dad, I fire up the Corvair and take it for a spin. I hear that special sound of the motor and the world disappears and suddenly Dad is sitting with me, and we are cruising around again sharing our special time together.