MY FATHER'S TOY

My father is strange. I'll just tell you that straight up. He is very strange. Sometimes, it's an awesome type of strange, and sometimes it's just a 0.o STRANGE strange, if you catch my drift. I do love him so, but sometimes it gets quite obvious where I get my... uniqueness from. :P

Anyways, I'll tell you a little about him. He's very nice, but very opinionated. He once lectured my friend on why she shouldn't like the current political party that's in power in Canada (the Conservatives) when we were driving to the war museum. He's also very funny, and does a hilarious Celine Dion impression LOLZ. He loves my fat, hairy Golden Retrievers Fred and Wendy, and insists that they are not fat and they need more table scraps.

So, STORY TIME! Last year, my father turned 50. He had the whole mid-life crisis thing. He decided that, for his 50th birthday, he would definitely do two things: 1) Get a tattoo, and 2) buy himself a convertable. He did both. He now has the logo of his favourite hockey team on his thigh, and he is not hesitant to drop his pants and display the tattoo in his underwear. The convertible, that we have dubbed his "toy", is a black Mazda Miata named Matsumi, or Mia. She's imported from Japan, and the steering wheel is on the wrong side of the car. He LOVES his toy.

I always feel weird riding in it, though. Whenever I pull up to school and I'm in the convertible, I feel a little... show-offy. I guess I'm not really one for a grande entrance, but when we pull up to the barn I ride at, it's even weirder because I feel like I'm snobby or something. Of course, nobody really thinks that. They all think it's pretty cool my dad has a convertible. I just can't help thinking that they think I'm rich or something because of it. ANYWAYS, that's my story for today. :P