In the driveway is his white pickup truck. It has been part of him since before we met. It was a rare day to see him in anything other than Levi’s and a plaid shirt, always the driver. He and his truck were a constant. A steady rhythm one could count on without a single worry. On this day, it sits just as he left it, patiently waiting on a driver.
Never Looking Back
He loved the open air, wide spaces, and freedom from conformity. He worked while the world slept and slept while the world worked. He and his truck led a synonymous life. Traveling the roads they chose, blazing a trail of their choosing, and never wavering from their intended route. After weeks of working and farming, the road would call, the essentials were packed, and the wheels were rolling south. As time passed, they could be found closer and more frequently in sync. Plaid shirt, Levi’s, and a Silverado living a life exclusive to themselves and never looking back.
Enjoying The Ride
Fast forward many days and I still see the Silverado waiting on a driver. The plaid shirt and Levi’s are no longer moving along the dirt road to the red barn, up to the garage, or resting by the back door. He had a call to answer and has gone ahead of us. He did not leave us empty. I walk through the trees and try the handle. Surprised to find it unlocked, I pull the handle and surprisingly, I enjoy the creaking sound of the familiar door. The smells of when we first met rush to fill my head and I sit behind the wheel. Low, the seat sits so low from years of companionship. My mind quickly shares the picture of him sitting low and cruising steadily at 55. No hurry. No pressure from others. Enjoying the ride.
Waiting For A Driver
All the fluids had to be drained and the seals replaced. Time takes a toll on belongings that sit too long. A lesson we have had to learn many times over the past few years. No one is to blame. The time simply must be right. Some parts of life are faced only when our hearts are ready. So, we closed his Silverado in the garage anticipating a better day and waiting for a driver.
Time Mends Them Both
Once the day came, we dusted him off, released the brake, and held his hand as he rolled onto the flatbed truck. I watched from the window. This was an unexpected, and strange feeling. He stayed close and watched to ensure nothing went wrong. The heart sneaks up on the mind so unexpectantly in moments like this. Why is it hard to see this truck in motion again? We now know. This is not about the truck. It’s the full story, the love, the life, the driver. The Silverado was on the move again and I felt the good energy from the kitchen window. His emotions were many, so I kept my distance. Time will mend them both.
The Driver’s Seat
Months later, in my driveway, his white pickup truck sits eager to feel its tires grip the gravel again. A cardinal wastes no time discovering the 70s chrome and falls in love. John grabs the keys and I find my new seat on the right. The bench seat screams freedom and welcomes us to enjoy the openness. The ride is solid and secure. So, this is why they often forgot their seatbelts. We claim this as our Sunday routine and make our way down the hill. You must engage. The Silverado must be driven by its driver; there is no automatic to this ride. A love for the past creates curiosity and the driver’s seat becomes a busy place. We won’t go far, but we will forever take the driver with us and enjoy the ride.
No Longer Waiting On A Driver
The clear windshield gets my attention as I notice the mirror beside me on the bench. Without missing a beat, he says, “Hold it up or sit backward” We’re going for a ride. No hurry. No pressure from others. We will enjoy the ride, find our rhythm, and continue to love and remember the days when plaid shirts, Levi’s, and the best father-in-law welcomed me to ride alongside him. The garage is empty, the driveway is full, and we are no longer waiting on a driver.
Stay Curious,
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