"Don't upset your Mother," he said sternly when I arrived home after midnight at 17 years of age, the first time I ever borrowed the car. "You know what she's like. She's worried."
At the time I thought it was very nice of him to warn me of what had been happening back at the fort, while I was burning around town in the family Mitsubishi Colt with my hot new licence, but the beauty of hindsight allows me to understand he was simply telling me what he wanted to say, only using Mum as the diversion.
He was upset too, but it was Mum I had to snuggle up to and promise that I'd never do it again. As Daddy's little girl, sometimes you'd just get away with it, within reason of course!
Fathers are very proud of their daughters. I can grasp the magnitude of this now as a parent myself.
The time we spent together driving to and from dancing competitions in other regional cities near Townsville would've killed other fainted heart Dads. Not mine. He'd spend hours sitting in uncomfortable plastic chairs waiting for me to perform, only to drive my Mother and I home again at the end of the day. Up to eight hours round trip.
Some weekends he'd be lucky and I'd have to dance on both Saturday and Sunday so he got to sleep in a manky hotel for the night and have somewhere else to go during the day, but more often than not he'd happily turn around on Saturday afternoon and drive the fours hours home, tired, with only a roadside-house coffee or a chicko roll to ease the pain.
This tradition lasted more than 15 years, and I remember it like it was yesterday. It was our special time.Of course I was crazy jealous of my brothers when they were chosen to go away with Dad on car trips and I wasn't, but looking back I realise we had our own adventures, in-jokes and favourite car songs they wouldn't have had.
As I grow older and my own family develops, I see Dad more clearly and appreciate his devotion to his family. Without this I honestly believe I would not be the person I am today.
My father is an intelligent, loyal, devoted, loving, passionate family man who is fiercely protective, yet at the same time more than willing to let you go and live your own life. He's instilled a sense of adventure in me that I don't believe I would've developed myself because he always said I could achieve whatever I set my mind to.
His advice and support throughout the years has given me the strength and confidence to take each new step in my life. Whether that step was backwards or forwards, I knew he was there, somewhere, a few steps behind watching and only offering advice if I asked for it.
Our weekly (sometimes fortnightly) conversations on the phone are often short and sweet, never quite revealing anything new. I'm always "same old, same old," but what I really wish I could say is: Thank you Dad. Thank you for loving me and my brothers with every bone in your body and giving us the best life three kids could ever ask for - even if you did throw away my favourite (and perfectly good) toy clothes line when I was 2.
Here's to you, a very belated Father's Day messge; I love you Dad. High Beam!
