A few weeks before I turned 16, my father came home and surprised me with the news that every teenage boy longs to hear.

"Come with me, son," he said. "I’ve bought you a car."

YES! My own car! I couldn't believe it. No more watching every girl I remotely liked climb into an older guy's car and head off for a night of dating fun while I waited in front of the mall arcade to be picked up by one of my parents. Nope, now it was my time. Let the good times roll!

A short time later, Dad and I pulled up to a house. It was then that my heart fell to the floorboard. There, in the front yard with a SOLD sign on the windshield, was a freshly washed, shiny red Pacer!

I don't know if you're aware of what a Pacer looks like, but picture a giant, pregnant roller skate and you've pretty much nailed it. Not only that, but the thing is 90 percent glass. If you don't want to drive it, you can just park it out back and use it as a greenhouse. It's also round. I swear on my life, it's a round car!

"God help me if I ever flip it," I mumbled, "the thing will roll through four counties before it finally stops."

“What do you think?” Pop asked.

I didn't know what to say. Everything in me wanted to yell, “What do I think? I think you've ensured that I'll never get a date! I think the only girls who'll be seen with me are the ones who wear headgear and pluck their unibrow for special occasions! I think that once word of this gets out, my soon-to-be ex-friends will exhaust themselves finding ways to make my life miserable! And I think that the moment I drive up to Asheboro High School in this thing, kids in the band will beat me up!"

Despite my inner panic, I kept my emotions in check and forced a subdued "Thanks, Dad."

Weeks later, I eventually got up the nerve to tell Dad how I felt. He was great. He understood and allowed me to sell the car and buy my brother’s old beat-up Toyota.  Man, hard to believe that was almost 30 years ago.

What’s the point of my Pacer story? Time greatly changes your perspective. When I was a teenager, all I saw was an ugly car. Now that I'm grown, all I really think about is how much my dad must have loved me to want to give me what he thought I wanted.

I once heard it said that intentions don’t count for much. But when it comes to parenthood, I disagree. Intentions might not carry the day at the time, but as the years pass kids see less and less of whatever upset or embarrassed them and a whole lot more of the loving intentions behind a parental gesture.

As parents, we won’t always get it right. Our best efforts might very well look like a Pacer today. But one day, they'll be an important reminder to our kids of how much we loved them. So thanks for the car, Pop! And this time, I really mean it.