“I love cars because of my dad.”
That’s a pretty common phrase to hear, and let’s face it—it’s usually a male figure that leaves a strong impression in a car person. But my path to being an enthusiast was unorthodox, to say the least. For starters, it was my mom who was into cars in our family; she was a bit of a trailblazer in that regard.
What about my dad? He wasn’t born a car guy, but boy did he make the effort to be one for the sake of our relationship. He could’ve easily been dismissive and called it a waste of time. Instead, he understood the assignment and put in the work.
It’s not like my father had the privilege or luxury of being a car guy at the time. Dad was born in 1952 to a family with a military and education background. A bit of an odd mix, but that also meant cars weren’t really part of dad’s formative years. No one in his side had any particular interest in cars, and they were simply seen as a means of getting from point A to point B.
Dad didn’t even have a true car of his own till he got married to my mom. They shared a 1972 Corolla together, but he was lucky enough to be assigned a Toyota Crown from the early ’80s thanks to his job at the time. Then came a string of ‘small body’ Corollas, which were then followed by a wide variety of Hondas.
So, where did him being involved in my car journey begin? It’s safe to say my mom laid down the foundations, but my dad helped reinforce it. It started with a bunch of Matchbox cars, and I still recall some of the ones a played with the most: a red Rover 825L Sterling, a white Jaguar XJ40, and a Skoda 130 rally car. Talk about a random and unusual selection.
The toys were the first phase, but the second part would seemingly forge my path. Perhaps the reason why I ended up being a motoring journalist was because of my very first car magazine in 1996. I still remember the day I went to the National Bookstore branch along Katipunan, picked a magazine, and endlessly read it from cover to cover. It was the February 1996 issue of Motor Trend featuring the Mercedes-Benz E-Class when it won the Import Car of the Year.
From there, the love for anything that had four wheels grew, and so did my dad falling into the rabbit hole of automotive information. Remember, this was all in the mid-’90s, so the internet wasn’t widespread then. Soon enough, he was telling me about brands such as Lexus and Acura, marques that only car people knew about, or those who had relatives in the US. After that, we would just start talking about cars, and the six-year old me felt like he was a repository of automotive knowledge.
Another fond memory was him waking me up extra early to watch a condensed version of Top Gear on BBC World. I don’t remember if it was 1997 or 1998, but I do recall seeing Jeremy Clarkson, Tiff Needell, Vicki Butler-Henderson, and Quentin Willson. And speaking of TV, we’d also watch a few local motoring shows together like Auto Focus and Motoring Today, as well as Auto Extreme, and races held at Subic International Raceway.
But that’s the thing about my dad, though. A certain topic might not be his first interest, but once he starts putting in the work to understand it, he’s like a sponge when it came absorbing trivial information. Maybe it’s something I picked up from him, maybe not.
It was all going well for me and my dad, but my time with him was nearly cut short in 2004 when he suffered a heart attack. Thankfully, he survived, and we pretty much doubled down on bonding, going beyond cars and exploring other interests such as music, film, and general pop culture. Dad was big into sports, though, particularly basketball. I was (and still am) totally hopeless on that side of things, but at least my sister got that part covered.
My dad joined our Creator in 2011, seven years after his first attack. I was just 21 years old at the time, recently got a gig as a racing school instructor, and slowly making my way around automotive circles. All of a sudden, it felt like a rug had been pulled out from under our feet, uncertain with what lay ahead. It was sudden, devastating, and still stings to this day.
But we do what we can to cope. The sadness of loss will never go away, but the joy of the memories left behind continue to shine. Those memories were, apparently, also filled with lessons I try to apply now that I’m a father myself. It’s my way of keeping his legacy going. And that’s another thing remember about my dad: He never forced me to like what he liked. He did the opposite and learned to love what I loved. He wasn’t a car guy, but his sparks of support helped light my burning passion for cars.
My wife and I were blessed with a sweet baby girl about a year and a half ago. I don’t know what she will like or the things she will be incredibly passionate about. She might already have a budding interest in cars, but I’d rather wait and see if it grows rather than imposing it on her. Either way, it’s now my turn to help her find what drives her, along with guiding and supporting her every step of the way. I will do my best to understand why she loves what she loves, just like what dad used to do with me all those years ago.
Happy Father’s day to all the dads out there. You’re doing just fine.
