My Way of Living + Visual

Driving Mr. Daisy

“You're going two miles over the

1-2010 08 02_1096

speed limit, you had better slow down, or you’ll get a ticket” he tells me, there are no other vehicles on the road except a semi that has inexplicitly cut in front of us. “Dad, I’m trying to pass this semi truck that just cut in front of us.” The one that is driving on the white line creating a blinding sandstorm from the now dried sand and gravel that snow plows had spread so abundantly. Slow down, he insists. I do, but not until we safely pass the semi, now wobbling from lane to lane, a huge dense cloud of dust behind us.

2-2010 08 02_1095

He checks his passenger side mirror without any pretence as we smoothly edge into the empty lane beside us. There is no one beside us, but he checks each time. “You’re a better driver then your sister, she goes way to fast.” Well, that’s some accomplishment I think to myself.

3-2010 08 02_1082

I recall many summer vacations spent as a child where I thought we were to be immediate victims of a head on crash, as the now elderly, but once impatient driver sitting besides me used to pass multiple vehicles with our truck and camper without a blink. On coming traffic be dammed. I can still hear the receding angry honking as he wound between slower moving tourists, sliding into a space at the last second, and the rest of our family collectively letting out our breath. It wasn’t as if he was doing anything that anyone else didn’t do. Everyone drove with a cigarette in their right hand, their finger used to twirl the steering wheel… windows wide open, left arm hanging out, bronzed, strong, and fatherly. They just didn’t know any better. Now we do.

4-2010 07 26_0875

I drive with both hands on the wheel, 10, and 2, eyes on the road, checking the rear, sides, and front continuously.and it’s barely enough for him. We’ve lived here for over a year, and he still gives me directions on when to turn into our little town… Somehow this isn’t what I imagined as a child, riding shotgun in the pickup truck, watching my big strong Father drive the road. I glance over to the passenger seat, taking in the older, frailer man he has become… and I slow down even more. If it makes him feel safer, it’s worth it to me.

Boot, family, road, and more:

Driving Mr. Daisy + Visual