Looking for Dad's Car

Recently, Mom told me that the person who bought my Dad's car after he passed, sold it to someone in Phoenix, Arizona. The car is a Ford Galaxie 500XL Convertible. It is white with a new black top and a red interior. It is gorgeous. Dad kept this car in great condition and it was always kept in the garage. This particular car holds a lot of good memories for me; we were in several parades with it in the town I grew up in. Dad belonged to a car club and there were metal license plates with the club name on it that only members could get. Dad had me paint the plate red and the raised lettering white so it would match the Ford. He loved the paint job, and put the plate on the dashboard because he didn't want it to be "out in the elements" where it would have been ruined. After Dad's funeral, Mom gave me that plate, knowing how much it meant to me. Dad had other cool cars, too. He had a 1930 Ford Model A with a rumble seat. That was before the '66 Ford. We did a lot of parades in that one, too. I can remember throwing candy from the rumble seat in the Christmas parade for many years. I also recall towing it with a tow rope and Dad's jeep, too. Good times. We had towing down to an art. We mastered our hand-signals, and after we had towed either the Model A or my car five or six times, Dad didn't even have to yell at me any more! ;o) Dad's Jeep was a 1977 CJ7 with an AMC 304 and a 3-speed tranny. What a ride! Dad was teaching me to drive a stick in the Jeep one day, and I played along. What he didn't realize was, my boyfriend had already taught me how to drive a stick shift about a year before. So we went through the motions, learned about the clutch, etc. Then I was allowed to start the Jeep and try her out. I pulled out of the driveway very carefully and headed down the street. Stopped at the stop sign, and when I pulled out, I burned up the tires for about 20 yards. Dad knew he'd been had. He told me to turn around and take him home. Thank God he had a good sense of humor! Dad also had a 1970 Ford Pickup that we called "The White Ghost". There were many weekends on Cape Cod when Dad would say, "Everybody in the truck" and we would all pile in and go to the beach or somwhere. We probably looked like the Beverly Hillbillies riding around in that truck. On one occasion, my best friend Donna and I were riding in the back of the truck when it broke down on top of the Sagamore bridge (Cape Cod). This was a fairly normal occurrence to me. I got out and Donna just looked at me. She said, "What are you doing?" "I'm going to push the truck," I replied. Donna was absolutely horrified! She told my Dad she wasn't going to push the truck, and my Dad told her in no uncertain terms that she was going to push it. Well, she did, but she wasn't happy about it and it took a long time before she would get back into that truck again. But she did. She was also with us when the motor went out on our 17-ft ski boat, and when Dad handed her an oar, I thought she would die. But she rowed. And she never went out on the boat again! Anyway, my whole point is that now, Dad's car is somewhere in Arizona. I will be combing the auto shows, gatherings, show & shines, and swap meets for his car. I just want to see it again. Maybe take a picture of it, if the owner lets me. There are just so many good memories associated with it. I wish I could buy it back.