05/03/2026
"Gravity was optional; Dad’s schedule was mandatory.”
Dad didn't do "headcounts." He did "wheels up times." By the time the engine turned over, the driveway was already shrinking.
We didn't have helmets or padded cushions. We had the "dashboard brace." If he hit a right curve, the whole backseat lurched like a fishing boat in a squall. You'd glide across that slick upholstery like a stone on a frozen pond. You had to clutch your brother's sleeve just to stay planted. It was every kid for themselves back there.
The sunroof was open. The air was roaring. Dad was locked in on the highway and his thermos of black coffee. We were just luggage with opinions.
But we cherished every moment of the mayhem. It wasn't a commute. It was an unauthorized thrill ride through the back roads.
