My father came with me as far as Detroit, where he stopped to help me search for a new car in the Motor City. He is wise in the ways of the world, though sometimes a little too practical. I remember back when he came to visit me in Japan. Come dinner time, he asked “Is there anywhere you can get good Italian food in this country?”, and when I protested that he might want to try some sushi, or noodles, or dumplings, or tempura, he just shook his head and started looking through the index of his guidebook. I think we had Italian six of the seven nights he was there.

Admittedly, when Japan does Italian, it goes all out.

But I will give him credit where credit is due; he eventually made it up to the poor Japanese. After he perused all the cars that one of the world’s greatest automotive centers had to offer, he made me a final well-informed recommendation and I am now the proud owner of a new Subaru.