Wonderland

My dad is a farmer by occupation, but his real career is that of a hobbyist. His hobbies have included everything from upholstery and wedding photography to building and flying model airplanes. No matter how many hobbies he’s amassed through the years, one thing holds true for each of them: he seems much more interested in buying stuff for the hobbies—kits, supplies, customized accessories—than the hobbies themselves.

Case and point:

Over the past two years he’s seemed to settle on a hobby: restoring antique automobiles. I use “antique” loosely, as one of his purchases is a Corvette from the 1980s, and I refuse to categorize anything from that decade as an antique. There’s also an El Camino—finally, one has come into my life!—of less than vintage standards. The hobby began with the purchase of a Pontiac GTO from the 1960s. It has a lot of brothers and sisters now, but the fact of the matter is that the GTO is in the exact same state as it was when it rolled onto our farm two years ago.

What has changed, you ask? Simple. The construction of a 7,000 square-foot auto shop, for one. A 7,000 square-foot auto shop that doesn’t produce autos. Citysearch would not give it a favorable rating. The place started out pretty functional: a room for the actual fixing of the cars, a paint room, and a shit load of various gizmos that I, for sheer ignorance, cannot begin to name. Now it is a Mecca for antique signage, gas pumps, and other automobile nostalgia. Now its walls are covered in fake red brick. Now it plays host to wayward farmers stopping by for cigars and donuts. Now it has its own name and matching coasters. Now it is the biggest clubhouse in the county, the Neverland Ranch of West Texas. I’m just waiting for a waterslide and a monkey.

I’m glad my dad enjoys it; I just hope his hobby-hungry eyes stay settled here for a few years. We’re running out of acreage.

You didn’t think I’d leave you without a tour, did ya?