when i came back to this country, the first car i had was a german car. then i moved on to locally assembled japanese variants labelled as "national cars" and now i'm driving a german car again.

in ten years i plan to get a four-door mercedes. and after retirement i want to drive an slk. i have always perceived mercedes as reliable cars. i want to drive worry-free like my father.

my father has been driving a honda accord for the past fourteen years. the car has never been to a workshop for major breakdowns. it is still running comfortably and reliably in town and on highways. he drives it 140km/h on long-haul journeys.

he's a retired teacher; so, a honda after retirement suits him well. but i want to up the ante and i plan to get a mercedes.

well, the plan has to be put on hold effective today after a friend showed me an article in fortune magazine on the degradation of quality in mercedes cars.

ok, enough of my what used to be my dream car.

i went up north to meet my parents over the weekend. my father celebrated his birthday on the 27th. he's old but with no major ailments. i have to make a point to visit them more frequently to make up lost time. i stayed with my parents only until i was 12 after which i went to a government boarding school for five years and then to the united states on scholarship from a government-owned company.

my father once introduced me to his friends as the "government's son" because i was practically raised by the government.

my relationship with them is at arm's length. i call them every four weeks or so. i love them. i know they love me too. but we don't really show the love. i've only started to hug my father two or three years ago. i made the move to hug him. it felt awkward at first as it was too late in life that we started to do it. but it's never too late i guess. i've heard from my friends their regrets for not telling their fathers that they love their folks.

this august i'm making another visit, god willing. this one is an annual ritual. august is when the company pays out the bonus. i share some of it with my parents. they don't really need the money. they have plenty of it (more than i do). and there's no amount of money that can equal what they put in to raise me. but giving it makes me feel good because they appreciate whatever little i give them.

i observe that there's something else my father and i like to do. when i was younger i used to pinch his shirts, belts, or shoes. it made me feel good to be in his clothes.

last year he visited me and stayed at my place. i was in the office when he called me to tell me that he was leaving. then he asked if he could have a pair of my shoes. i had polished that particular pair, stuffed them in a plastic bag, and shoved them on the shoe shelf, procastinated to change the heels. i told him to come over to town and i'd buy him a new pair. but he didn't mind the heels he told me.

he has finer shoes and surely he can afford a new pair. but he insisted on having mine. on a few occasions before that he wanted to have my shirts. maybe that's how we show our bond, by wearing each other's clothes. it's my pleasure to give him whatever belongings i have.

i love you dad. and happy belated birthday to you from a non-conforming, rebellious son.