They say that you can’t change your genetics to pass down certain traits to your offspring. Like, if you get a tattoo, your kids aren’t going to be born with a tattoo, duh. But I think if you absorb enough motor oil, radiator fluid and windshield washer fluid through your skin in a lifetime, you will eventually alter your genetic makeup. And your kids will be gear heads.
Maybe not. But I like to think so.
In my case, it’s my dad I have to blame. Between shoving me in the backseat of various Porsche speedsters and schlepping me around to a handful of car dealerships during the New York Times’ “Take your Daughters to Work Day” (where he managed the automotive advertising department, quel suprise) I developed a fondness for the automotive world. And I gotta’ say, I’m pretty pleased about that since it’s lead me on a fun career path.
When you go to a place like Greenwich High School, you are constantly told “you can do whatever you set your mind to!” This is: a. cheesey and b. an overwhelming concept. Eventually you have to narrow it down to something. And thanks to my father’s altered genetic composition, I was born with Mobil1 synthetic oil coursing through my veins. Pursuing a career in the automotive industry only seemed natural.
(Sidenote: If it weren’t for the PCA–Porsche Clubs of America–where my parents met, I wouldn’t even be here, and you wouldn’t reading t his blog. So my personal thanks to Dr. Porsche.)
So that’s why my dad’s getting his very own page full of shout-outs on my blog. Plus he’s still a huge fan of the US Post Office and still mails me cool things from time to time. He often emails me fun photographs of his latest projects, as well. (He wears many hats, my dad, and is often working on a new undertaking, usually having something to do with cars or photography or both.)
Here’s the first and most recent addition to “notes from my dad.” He came up with the concept of ripping off side-view mirrors from old cars in the junkyard near his house in Prosperity, South Carolina. He then converts them into picture frames, mounting them on a piece of wood to anchor them, with the emblem from your favorite make, also pried off a car in the junkyard. (I think this is also where I get my resourceful nature.)
This is the final product: (you may recognize this photo from another post, which is because it’s basically my favorite picture of Mason D.)
Cool, right? I think it’s lovely. I still haven’t decided if I want to put it on my desk at work or at home. “It makes a good desk piece,” dad says.
He told me he mounted it on this particular piece of wood, because like Infiniti’s designs, it has some smooth, round curves, juxtaposed aside sharp, straight lines. Right on, pops.
For the record, the actual side view mirror in this case is “likely from an old Chevy Nova” but I maintain that its from an old Infiniti J30. Technically Infiniti uses plastic side-view mirrors, not chrome, but clearly chrome is cooler for a picture frame. It’s ok to be in denial in this case.
For now it’s going to stay where it is on the butcher block in my kitchen (also made by my father) because it will get quite a bit of visibility there. Which brings me to my next project… dinner. I’ll be looking for a recipe with a lot of chopping so I can spend more time at my butcher block. On second thought, I might be better off baking something, as stirring is safer than chopping while gazing lovingly at my new picture frame.
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