The writing in this first part is going to sound kinda childish, but I tried to write how a three year old would speak and how his dad would talk to him. The second part will be better. I think.
I do not own Phineas and Ferb. Drive (For Daddy Gene) belongs to Alan Jackson.
The 1960 Chris-Craft Continental
It was just an old plywood boat
With a '75 Johnson, with an electric choke
Dawson, Georgia. June 18, 2000
The Flynn Residence
"Phineas…wake up Phineas."
Three year old Phineas Flynn woke to the sound of his father's whispering voice. The small boy opened his eyes to find a kindly faced man smiling at him.
"Good morning, Phineas."
"Good morning, Daddy."
Robert Flynn was twenty-six. He had short brown hair that Phineas hadn't inherited, and bright blue eyes that Phineas had. "Are you ready for our big day?" he asked.
"Yup!"
"Alright, Mommy has your breakfast waiting. I'm gonna go hitch up the trailer. I'll meet you outside when you're done." And he left Phineas's bedroom.
Phineas quickly threw on the white t-shirt and overalls Linda had hung over the back of the chair in the corner the night before and rushed down to breakfast.
Phineas raced outside. His father's silver '92 Chevy 1500 was hitched up to a shiny new boat trailer.
"Hey, kiddo! Ready to go?" Robert asked.
"I'm ready!"
"Alright. Let's get going. We have a long drive ahead of us."
Robert opened the passenger door and lifted Phineas into his car seat.
"Where are we going again, Daddy?" Phineas asked as his dad climbed into the driver's seat.
Robert started the engine. "We're going all the way up to Atlanta."
Atlanta, Georgia
Jeff's Bait and Tackle Shop
"Pick me up, Daddy. I can't see it good."
Robert smiled and lifted Phineas up onto his shoulder. They were standing in the parking lot of "Jeff's Bait and Tackle Shop." An old boat was perched on the trailer behind the Chevy pickup. The eighteen foot Chris-Craft Continental was freshly painted a brilliant crimson with a cream stripe. Lovingly built by the famed wooden boat company in 1960, the boat looked like it had just come out of the workshop yesterday, save for the lack of a protective coating on the wood. The previous owner had taken care of it well, and had been it the process of restoring it when medical complications had halted his work. A 75hp Johnson outboard motor sat on its side in the bed of the truck.
The grin on Phineas Flynn's face had never been wider. "It's all ours, right?"
"Yup. It's all ours." He carried Phineas over to the truck and strapped him into his car seat.
"Mommy and Candace are just going to love it!" Phineas said with a yawn. The nearly three hour ride up to Atlanta had worn him out.
"I'm not so sure Candace will be interested," Robert said. "But, I'm sure Mommy will love it."
"I hope Candace at least gives it a chance," Phineas yawned again. And as Robert started the truck again, the little boy fell sound asleep.
June 19, 2000
The Flynn's garage
Phineas rubbed the smooth wood with a rag, making sure there was not a single speck of dust on the boat. Behind him, Robert was mixing special lacquer in an empty spackle bucket.
"How's it look, Phineas?"
Phineas turned around to face his father. "This boat is so clean, you could successfully give it an impeccable clear coating."
A strange look crossed Robert's face. "Uh, wow. Those were a lot of big words for a three year old. I think the phrase you're looking for is 'so clean, you could eat off it.'"
"But we're not eating off it. We're liquoring it."
Robert laughed. "Lacquer, Phineas. We're putting on lacquer."
"Ohhhh."
June 23, 2000
Just outside the Flynn Garage
Phineas stood in the open cabin of the boat, wiping the wax off of the gunwale. The clear coating was smoother than glass, and the unpainted oak wood on the rail glistened in the sunlight. The rest of the boat, already waxed, sparkled like a diamond.
Robert's head appeared from underneath the boat trailer. He held a rag of his own. He had just finished wiping down the keel. "How's it look, kiddo?"
Phineas smiled down at his dad. "I'm all done up here. How's the bottom?"
"Finished." Robert groaned as he pulled himself out from under the boat. He reached up and Phineas jumped into his arms. "Oof! You're getting too heavy to keep doing that."
Phineas laughed. "Sorry, Daddy."
Robert set Phineas down and they walked around the boat. The Johnson outboard had been mounted on the transom and the entire electrical system had been rewired.
"It's beautiful, Dad."
"It sure is."
They stood and stared at the boat for a few moments in silence.
"When can we take it out on the water?" Phineas asked.
"This Sunday. We'll go to Walter F. George lake in Alabama. It's actually on the state line."
"I love bodies of water that occupy two territories at once."
Robert stared at Phineas again, who smiled back. "Phineas, sometimes, you scare me."
June 25, 2000
Walter F. George Lake (What a weird name for a lake)
Robert drove the Chevy and now empty trailer up the boat ramp and parked it under a tree. He pulled Phineas out of the truck and held his son's hand for safety as they walked to the little floating dock secured to the shore line.
"I can't believe Candace wanted to go shopping with Mommy instead of coming out on the lake with us," Phineas said, slightly downcast.
"Well, that's okay, kiddo. It'll give us some father-son time."
They reached the spot where the wooden boat had been moored. Robert lifted Phineas over the gap and set him inside the little craft before climbing in himself. "Ready, Phineas?"
Phineas sat the red leather seat on the port side of the boat next to his father in the starboard driver's seat. He smiled and nodded but said nothing.
"Okay, here we go!"
Robert turned the key and the outboard turned over. He couldn't help but look at the joyous expression on his son's face as he slowly edged the throttle forward and moved slowly away from the dock.
The engine screamed as they tore across the water in the middle of the lake. The hand laid wooden hull sliced through the water with ease. Robert looked at his three year old son in the seat next to him. Phineas was holding on to the side of the seat cushion with one hand and griping the gunwale with the other. He looked like he was holding on for dear life, but his face read otherwise. The wide smile had not faded and his wide blue eyes stared straight out the windshield, taking in the scenery.
Robert suddenly cut the engine. The boat slowed down as it glided through the water, and Robert helped it along by giving it a little reverse throttle. When the boat came to a stop, he looked at his son again.
"Phineas?"
Phineas finally looked at his father, his facial expression still the same.
"You want to drive, Phineas?"
Phineas sat in the driver's seat, his little fingers unable to encircle the steering wheel. Robert put the seat cushion from the passenger seat under Phineas's cushion to sit the boy up a bit higher. He could barely see over the dash.
Phineas looked at his father. "Go ahead, Phineas. Just push that lever up and steer."
Phineas put a tiny hand on the throttle and pushed against it as hard as he could, but he could not move the handle. Robert put his own hand over Phineas's and helped him move the throttle to half speed.
"Thank you, Daddy."
The boat jumped forward, gliding along on the surface, the motor barely straining to move the little craft. Phineas held the wheel with both hands, so excited, he didn't know what to do. He could see the shore on the horizon to the east, so, with nothing else to aim for, he spun the little wheel hard to port and guided the boat inland.
Robert sat back in the passenger seat and looked out at the open water. "Those new aluminum and fiberglass boats are great, but you will never find a boat that rides like an old wooden runabout."
Phineas turned the wheel again, a bit to starboard, and then to port, and then took the runabout in a little circle. Out here, he was in charge. There were no other boats, nothing to crash into.
He remembered the books in his room that his mother thought he was too young to read. He had read them anyway, for he was way more intelligent than anyone thought. Treasure Island, Mutiny on H.M.S. Bounty, Robinson Crusoe.
Phineas turned the boat parallel to the shore, imagining he was sailing a great frigate on the open ocean, with cargo bound for Britain.
"Are you having fun, Phineas?" Robert asked.
Phineas was too engrossed in his imagination to answer, but he nodded and turned the boat back toward the middle of the little lake.