When I was a kid my dad, who was a kid himself, loved drag racing. He was always working on his home made street rod in the garage and as soon as I was old enough to work he had me saving money to buy my own hot rod. He made me buy TWO of the same cars actually, one half way decent version and one parts car. I had to bust my ass building this beast and when I was done we had the car of HIS dreams; a candy apple red 1971 Chevy Nova SS small block with a Hurst shift kit. He was in awe of himself and what he had created through me. He had very specific rules for this car, that I bought and paid for through my own hard work. No bumper stickers, no fancy stereo (had to be stock) no fancy speakers (again, stock only) and no drag racing unless he was with me. He was serious too, one time I went out on my own and had cool speakers and a fancy stereo installed without asking him, the VERY NEXT MORNING "someone" had busted out my driver's side window and stolen the stereo and the speakers. So next I decided to drag race it on I-96 on my way home from work at 3 AM...except I forgot to put oil in it (had a slow leak) and the engine seized mid-race with me doing 120 mph...the car was TOTALLED. He made me completely restore it and sell it immediately because obviously I did not respect the car. You know what? He was right, I DID NOT respect that car, I HATED that car. That car caused me to get beat on a regular basis, working on that car with my dad was some of the most stressful moments of my life, knowing I wouldn't know where a specific tool was or what he meant exactly when he gave me directions, it always ended violently. As a result, I am not a car guy, I hate working on cars, I hate sports cars and I don't try to save money by changing my on oil or giving my car a tune up, I despise it all. The actual moral here is that my dad had a dream and he tried to force it onto me, he tried to have me live his ideal situation and what happened, is exactly what always seems to happen; it totally backfired. Now I have 4 kids. Let me be clear, I don't treat my kids anything like my psychopath of a dad treated me, but there is a parallel going on now with my oldest. She has a natural knack for playing the guitar, something I have always played but never to any degree of expertise. She can pick up a guitar and within a few minutes figure out how to play nearly any song she wants, I LOVE it, she is amazing. The problem? She doesn't really like playing guitar. I've bought her two guitars, an acoustic and an electric, and when she does play them, it makes me happy like nothing else, because she is so good at it. She just isn't that into it, I don't want to push her, I don't want to make her do it because I don't want her to end up like I am with cars. Today we learned a new Avett Brother's song and as usual she had it down in a matter of minutes and within half an hour was singing AND playing it beautifully...but then, out of the blue, she was done. I made an off handed comment that I was glad she picked up the guitar because I had been considering selling it on ebay in order to buy Christmas gifts for her and she actually sad, "Oh, ok". My heart sank. I guess the point of this is maybe I need to start beating my kids.
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