Not surprisingly, we were the only family on the block (and maybe the only one in all California) with an airplane in their driveway--and for seven years, at that! The time my dad spent working on that plane created havoc between mom and him. I suppose she was jealous that he spent more time with his toy than with her. Every evening after work, and all day long on weekends, he'd go out to the garage and work on rebuilding it until the day my mother had been dreaming of for seven years finally arrived. It was the day my dad and a few of his buddies backed the Culver out of the driveway and out onto the street.