I love to drive. I’ve had a few jobs that required a lot of driving. I love to get in the car and drive somewhere. It’s not always about the destination. Sometimes, it’s all about the journey.
My daddy taught me to drive. My daddy was teaching me to drive long before I sat behind the wheel. When I was little, my mom kept a small round pillow on the back seat of the car. She purposely kept it there so she could reach it anytime she wanted to rest in the car.
As a small child, I can remember being on the backseat and picking up that round pillow. I held it up and turned it while watching my dad turn the steering wheel. I would mimic the steering wheel with my round pillow. I even held it at the 10 and 2 positions, just like my daddy.
When my daddy realized he had a co-pilot in the back seat, he started teaching me about being a good driver. I learned about the pedals, the controls, and the road signs. He also taught me the importance of staying in the center of the lane and the reason the lanes are painted. These driving sessions became valuable daddy-daughter time as I watched him intently while holding my round pillow. He used driving trips as teachable moments to impart all his wisdom about life to me.
It’s interesting how those precious childhood moments never fade. When you look back on them with a certain nostalgia, the memory makes your heart smile, and it makes you very thankful for good influences in your life. I am grateful that my daddy had a sweet and patient hand on the steering wheel of my soul.