With the sun shining and the temperatures on the rise for a change, summer appears to be finally here. Tonight was "date night" for my father and I. Recently, we have been having many opportunities for father-daughter bonding because both my mother and brother have been working in the evenings.
Tonight's date was at a downtown restaurant. It's a favorite of mine, quite possibly the best Italian restaurant in the entire Valley. Small and forever bustling, I doubt that the restaurant could fit more than twenty-five people. Therefore, we sat outside at a sidewalk cafe table.
There my father and I sat talking about this and that, watching the people walking up and down the main street. Casually, I observed the cigar store across the street which had set up a tent outside where its clientele could sit, smoking their cigars. As another Dean Martin ended, I felt the warm breeze tousle my hair and had a small epiphany: I was sitting in the exact kind of place I had always imagined myself sitting. A small but excellent cafe with al fresco seating options. The only difference was that in my many daydreams the restaurant was not in my former sleepy, ex-steel hometown, but in Manhattan, Paris, or Rome.
As my father and I were walking back to the parking deck, I pointed out a 90s model Camaro, my favorite American-made car. This lead to a conversation about the new Camaro which Chevy premiered last month. I like the new body type; it's a bit more muscle car than sports car. However, my father and I both agreed that the new body needs racing stripes to show-off the lines of the car. I then added that when I buy my Camaro, I have racing stripes added. I know racing stripes do not exude sophistications, but I think they are fun.
And that's my story for tonight.
P.S. RIP Michael Jackson and Farrah Fawcit
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