There has always been at least one Amphicar in the family since I was born in 1962. There were times when dad had two, though it was a rare occasion when both were operational. We recently figured out that dad has owned five altogether.

I remember one summer Marge and Sy (mom and dad) were out in one red Amphicar, and my sister Yona and I were out in the other. Even the regulars on the lake were a bit confused.

Well, it was a toasty day, and we decided to go for a swim. Hey, we jumped in the lake off of the boat all of the time. So we jumped out of the car and into the water. Well, you guessed it--relieved of its ballast, the Amphicar rose up in the water and we couldn't climb back in. Not that we were the least bit tempted to open the doors or anything!

It took a while before we could stop laughing enough to hail over a boat to help us get back in.

It's stories like these that make the Amphicar special to me. Like I said, we've always had one. To me, there's nothing new or strange about the sensation you feel on the boat ramp as the wheels leave the ground and the props take over.

It thrills me how the amphi-wonder continues through the generations. My son, Isaac, was playing with his cars on his "townscape" play mat and sent the red car down the boat ramp. "This one's the Amphicar, mom," he says. Happy me!

The family's left with a red '67 that's land- and seaworthy, though she needs a bit of work. I'm the primary operator and like to say it's mine, but the plates still say WB2MEW, dad's ham radio call letters.

She's still my baby!