Father's Day Observation

Dad is one of the greatest drivers who's ever lived.

I don't mean he's the best at going the speed limit or at not running red lights. I drive for an hour on the freeway and get ticketed once for going ten miles over the speed limit, and then again for going five over. Dad drives across the country and back I don't know how many times, and never once has he been ticketed or been in an accident. And he's almost always ten miles over the limit.

It doesn't matter what he does--he can tailgate, speed, run a red light, cut in front of a New York cab driver--if Dad is driving, there is no need to fear.

He doesn't listen to anything, except for the occasional talk radio. You don't need to talk to him to keep him awake. Sometimes he likes a cup of peanuts and M&Ms to snack on. No music. Just Dad and the car and the freeway. He is steady and he is sure.

The car is his poet, and he is its muse.

The Automotive Spirit flows through Dad's veins; he is a driving prophet; the atlas is his scripture.