There she is again, in all her shiny red and chrome glory, taking up a very big chunk of our garage.

My dad’s fire truck. I don’t suppose too many people can say that, but yes, my dad has his own fire engine. And she’s a handful.

Drives like a tank, I’m told, with something called double-clutching involved. Sucks up money about as fast as she once pumped water. And makes my dad about as happy as can be.

He bought the truck a few years ago when McSherrystown Fire Co. was consolidating with three other companies to form SAVES, Southeastern Adams Volunteer Emergency Services. Each company was getting rid of equipment they no longer used, and so it was time for the McSherrystown squad to part ways with their beloved 1956 Seagrave engine.

I’ve been told this engine is considered a solid classic among firefighters, and judging by the reactions I’ve seen, it must be true. Even those who drive the latest models with all the extras have been known to jump at the chance to get behind that Seagrave wheel.

My dad is a retired dairy farmer, and while I was growing up, he always worked another job or two to support his big family. That left little time for any hobbies, so I guess that’s one of the reasons he gets such joy out of this fire truck.

Or maybe it’s just the little boy that still lives in him, because there’s no denying that every little boy loves a fire truck.

The old Seagrave needed a lot of work. As with any classic vehicle, it’s not easy to come by parts. But Dad’s always been good at talking people into things, and he’s talked some good people into doing a lot of research and online digging and restoration work over the past few years, including several of his grandchildren — especially the one who’s a really fine mechanic. He’s also found some longtime firefighters eager to help out in any way they could.

She’s in our garage now because we’re getting ready for Saturday’s St. Patrick’s Day parade in York. Parades have been a favorite activity for Dad since he bought the truck and St. Paddy’s Day is his favorite of all.

Last year, he let it be known in advance that he would settle for nothing less than first place in the antique vehicle category. He started the planning well ahead of time. Ordered more bunting in the colors of the Irish flag. Started looking around for a leprechaun costume for one of the grandkids to wear. Spun a little yarn about the truck for the parade emcee to read at the reviewing stand.

And then there was the beard. Dad’s plan was to portray Patrick McSherry, town founder — 250 years ago — and about as Irish as they came. Maybe  Paddy had whiskers, maybe not. I’ve never seen any photos of the old gent. But Dad thought that it would add the necessary bit of authenticity.

By parade day 2012, he was sporting a pretty respectable growth. While we decked out the truck along West Market Street, he donned his green suspenders and top hat and — begorrah, if it weren’t Paddy McSherry himself.

The 1956 Seagrave in York’s 2012 parade.

We loaded the kids onto the back of the truck and stepped off toward Continental Square. As usual, the truck was a big hit. We’re not allowed to use the siren during the parade and that’s a real shame because it’s a great old-fashioned whiner of a siren, the kind that winds down ever so slowly after you take your foot off the big metal button on the floor, as if she’s running out of breath.

It was a great time as usual. Watching the way people react to that big red beauty, it’s no wonder at all that Dad wants to share it as often as he can.

After the parade, we convened at our house to party and make the most of the 70-some degree weather. By early evening, the results were out — Tom Murren had won the first-place award he wanted so badly.

Now, he will try to repeat. The old Irishman has had some pretty serious health problems in the year since his victory. And the weather forecast this year is not so sunny. But the beard is back. The leprechaun is ready to march. And the Seagrave is sparkling, ready to once again delight the little boy — or girl — in each of us.