Driving Lessons

My Dad really liked to drive. My Mom really liked to go for rides.

Dad taught us boys to drive when we were pretty young, about 12-13ish. I absolutely LOVED when Dad would say, "Bri, let's go for a ride." I would grab the Yellow Pages, and a pillow or two so I could see over the steering wheel.

Dad would drive us to a church parking lot, park the car, and say, "Ok, your turn."

I thought I was the greatest thing ever.

Once I got the hang of it, we would venture to bigger parking lots. My favorite was the Cottonwood Mall parking lot on Sunday. Back then the mall was closed on Sundays and, to me, it was huge - I could get that Plymouth Sapporo into 3rd gear.

When I got a little older I no longer needed the phone book or the pillows. Dad also let me drive on the streets a little bit. I could drive down to the church, or over to Albertson's. One of the biggest treats was to drive down to the Ice Berg and get a shake. Blackberry with chocolate chips is what I always ordered. The shakes were always good, but the drive was long - that was the treat.

I always thought that my Dad took the time to teach me how to drive to make sure that I would be a good driver, and that I would understand the rules of the road. Looking back, I think the driving was a distant second to his real purpose. He wanted to spend time with me.

My Dad died almost 10 years ago. I miss him, but I'm am constantly reminded of him by the words and phrases that come effortlessly out of my own mouth. "Ha. That's what Dad would have said."

Thanks Dad, for making me always feel like I could accomplish anything.

I think it's time I take my kids on a ride.