The year was 1978. Dad was nearing retirement and business had been good. I did not know it, but his dream had always been to have a Model B Ford, but he would have to settle for an A. As anyone did in the 70's he had a copy of Hemmings regularly, but I only got to hold it in his lap from time to time. Then one night he said he was going to buy a car. It was in Kentucky, which seemed a million miles from Mississippi, where we called home. He had never seen the car but the gentlemen who owned seemd knowledgeable and nice, and the price was fair, or so Dad said. He never told me how much that was, but he was determined to buy it. He told me what a Roadster was, and explained a rumble seat. That sounded like the most wonderful place known, a place where you could ride outside, away from everyone in the open air, almost outside of the car itself. All this was said over the Johnny Carson monolouge whcih I would beg to stay up to hear. At the end, as was the custom, I took my long walk to my room, but this time I did not stay in bed. I just couldn't resist, I grabbed my bank, my life savings, a fortune to a boy of six in Mississippi in 1978, and began counting it out. In the end, I had $21.00 dollars, just enough to buy a rumble seat. I put it all back in the bank and went back down the hall bank in hand, risking punishment for being out of bed, but I was not hindered or afraid. After all, I had a car to buy, or at least the best part of one. Dad welcomed the chance to let me be his partner and took the bank. I wish I knew the man's name he bought the car from, as he loved her too. He insisted we load it in a closed truck, nail boards around the tires and tie it down. As they finishied a light rain began to fall, the man, with tears in his eyes, pulled the door down to keep his car dry. When she arrived, a 1939 beautiful standard roadster, red with black fenders, she begged for a name, Betsy seemed to fit nicely. For the next thirty years we showed Betsy and her two T-Bird sisters, a 55 and 56, (his and hers for Mom and Dad, Torch Red and Starmist Blue). This was what Dad and I did, it was our thing. The family grew in 2004, when Betsy need a brother, outside of the window minutes after my daughter was born, we talked an old friend into selling us his project 1928 Model A Roadster Pick-up. After all it was a present for my newborn daughter. Dad and I restored that over the next year. I love the pictures of him holding her over the newly installed fenders, and all throughout the process. After all it was what we did, it was a part of us. Dad's last day to be healthy was at a car show in our hometown, that we had started 30 years earlier. It was 2008. Betsy is still with us. Now I show with my daughter. The collection is in the double digits today, all protected by Hagerty. My daughter likes to sell lemonade at the shows, and this year due to recent tornado activity raised $1,600 to donate to tornado relief. Not to bad of a way to help the community, celebrate Dad, and enjoy Betsy.