My brother Dewey Blocksma, younger than me by a year-and-a-half, notes that Dad did not fly to Karachi but took the train along with Majid. He spent a frustrating week trying to get a pile of paperwork approved to allow the Ford through customs. When Dad noticed that one particularly stubborn official suffered from a nasty skin problem, he gave the man a tube of penicillin that he kept in his pocket. A few days later, the man’s condition cleared and the Ford cleared as well. In the late 1940s, antibiotics were relatively rare. Dad always carried a tube or two, sent to him by my Uncle Dick in Grand Rapids, Michigan—Dad’s brother-in-law Dr. Richard Boelkins. Those antibiotics may have saved not only our 1949 Ford and countless patients, but the lives of Dewey and our younger sister Julia as well.