Life Behind the Wheel

July 3, 1919.   This date will not be of significance to most who may read this.  This date was an entire generation before the beginning of my years in this world – it is the date of my father’s birth.  On that special day, into this world was born one of the most amazing men ever! 

 My father.  Well, let’s see…..how many adjectives in the dictionary might be used to describe an incredible, loving, kind, wise, and godly man?  I wonder, would all of those words even be adequate?  To say that I hold a tremendous amount of love and respect for my fabulous father would be an understatement!  How blessed I am to have had such a father.

Daddy filled the many roles of the traditional man of his times.  To Mama, he was a husband without compare.  A book could be written about their incredible marriage and their unwavering love.  To his children, he was the epitome of fatherhood.  To his other family members and friends, he was just as kind, thoughtful, loyal and loving.  He was funny and engaging.  Life with Daddy was an adventure.  I remember well his love of history, and I believe I inherited this appreciation of the past.  I have wonderful memories of looking at pastures that were sites of historical places and events!  

In an earlier post, I wrote about Mama and that it was hard to write just about Mama and not Daddy because I usually don’t think of one without thinking of the other.  Just as there are special memories in my heart of Mama, there are special memories tucked there of Daddy.  And, this post is about Daddy.

Most memories I have of Daddy are one way or another related to the family.  There were countless times that I knew I was his princess.  But, I also knew what was expected of me.  I have many times told my children that I probably stayed out of a lot of trouble because my parents had so much love for me, and trust in me, that I couldn’t bear the thought of disappointing them.  I recall, with some amusement now, that when Daddy sat at his desk and called me by my first and middle names I knew that I needed to sit in that chair beside the desk and be prepared to face something!   

Daddy loved cars.  I suppose that life long fasination had it’s roots in the fact that it was during his youth that the Model T’s and the Model A’s were common.  Whatever the reason, Daddy liked everything about automobiles.  All of my life, I heard stories about the wild escapades (which would be mere baby’s play in today’s world) about the Model T pickup being loaded with friends and flying over the rutted country roads of northeastern Arkansas.  About how the thing would get into a rut and then just fall on it’s side!  Everyone would hop off, right the vehicle, pile in and off they went!  I still laugh when I recall those tales of my Daddy’s youth.

Needless to say, Daddy loved to drive!  If you are of my generation, you will recall that in the 1950’s many city dwellers went for country rides; at the same time, many country folks went for city cruizes.  We lived in town, so naturally, we went to the country!  Daddy had grown up on a farm and he was always interested in seeing the condition of the local crops. 

Now that I am older, and hopefully, wiser, I realize the value of those Sunday afternoon drives, and the memories are treasured.  It was during those times that no one was concerned about work or school.  Existing problems didn’t become a part of the pleasant conversation.  Numerous life lessons were gently imparted during those hours.  Daddy would often regale us with his own memories.  We learned a lot about the grandparents that we usually saw only twice a year.  We learned about what life was like thirty years before we were born.  Learned a lot about family history, too.  Those times together were special.

And, then there were vacations!  Of course, they were driving trips.   Daddy drove.  Mama sang.  Brother and I anticipated arrival at our destination.   More memories related.  More family history revealed.  Many historical (and some not so historical!) sites were visited.  Time together spent in the car, traveling down some road somewhere – such happiness I have to remember.

I remember when I reached the age that Daddy thought I should learn to drive.  Realize that even in those days (as my children say), we did have driver’s ed in school.  But, Daddy wanted to teach me to drive first, then I could take the class!  So, where else but to the country we would go.  My driving lessons were in all kinds of weather, on all kinds of roads.  In traffic and on the highway.  And, what do I remember from those driving lessons?  Laughter!  Lots of laughter!  “Now, Sis, ……….” or “No, Sis, you gotta…….” or “Not too sharp!”  or even “Go a bit easier on the brake!”  And, probably most of all, Daddy’s ever ready hand near the steering wheel.

Daddy believed that even girls should know at least a few basics about a car.  Things like how to change a tire; check the water in the battery and the radiator; check the air in the tires and to know how much air should be in them; and to check the oil.  Daddy also thought that I should be attuned to the sounds the car would make, and what to check if it didn’t sound as it should.  To Daddy, driving the car was just the minor part of being behind the wheel!  A lot was involved in being in the driver’s seat.  His opinion was that knowing about the vehicle was paramount to one’s ability to drive.  One had to know what a car could and could not do, how the car was manufactured to perform.  How to drive on ice and snow, and in the rain.  How to steer if the car went into a skid.  How to control the car if a blow out happened (which actually happened and I did exactly what Daddy said!).

I remember, too, when I had that first accident!  It honestly was not my fault – a drunk driver ran into Daddy’s car.  Thankfully, there were no injuries.  However, I thought I didn’t want to drive again, wouldn’t drive again.  What did Daddy do?  Put me in the car, in the driver’s seat and we went for a drive!  He would not let the fear of that accident lead me to believe that I should quit driving!

And, isn’t that just the way God works?  He teaches me what I should know.  He stays beside me through many lessons, taking the wheel when I begin to veer off the road, teaches me how to stay in my lane, how and when to turn one way or the other, and even sits with me when he tells me the rules of the road.  He is there to put me back into the driver’s seat when things happen and fear and doubt rule my thinking.  And, he never gives up on my ability to travel my road….His road.  And, too, His Hand is always, always near the steering wheel!

Thank you, Father God, for your hand on my life.  I ask you to guide me on the right road and to the right lane.  Amen.