I was driving to Savvy’s cousin’s 2nd birthday party, which was being held at her grandma’s house, and even though it’s a short drive, I’m running late and trying to hurry. The speed limits on the streets between here and there are pretty moderate, but for some reason traffic was a little backed up.
Up ahead, about 3 or 4 cars in front of me, was a big old or a Mercury Marquis, driving slowly like they were looking for a street that they couldn’t find.
One by one, as the cars in between us turned off to their respective destinations, it was finally just me and the big old Mercury. From behind, I can see two little heads that are barely able to see over the dashboard, an old man and an old woman, driving their giant car at about 2 miles per hour.
I chuckled to myself. They weren’t looking for a street; they were just driving at old man speed: slow. Sunday drivers.
I realized that the car they drove was like the one my Dad had driven for many years – maybe he still had it, too. Even though he could certainly afford any car he liked, Dad would buy a car that was about 1 year old, then drive it forever. That’s just his style; not too flashy.
Although I always remember him driving really fast when we were kids, it could have been him behind the wheel of this monstrous Merc now. He doesn’t really drive fast these days. And Dad has seemed to shrink a little with age, so he just might be a little lower in proximity to the dashboard like the gentleman in front of me.
Of course, my Dad was always taller than me when I was a kid, and when I finally got taller than him, he still insisted I was not. He probably still would if I asked him. But there’s a time for good sportsmanship in each of life’s games, and when you are decidedly taller than a man you’ve looked up to all your life, you don’t haggle. As years go by and you see each other less and less, you might wish he was still the taller of the two of you.
I eased back a bit from the Mercury as the driver finally found the road they had been searching for, and they turned and went on their merry way.
And I thought: good for them. Slow driver or not, I hope to be there one day. It had never occurred to me before, but it would be nice to like them and my Dad.
Those slow old drivers and my Dad have lived to see their children grow up, their grand children get born, and maybe a few great grand kids too. That sounds pretty nice to me, something to look forward to about old age that I had never thought about before.
God bless that little old guy driving in front of me.
I hope to be one some day.
For more amazing cuteness from my 4 year old daughter and the rest of her hilarious family, check out my Savvy Stories book series here. (Book two is on sale today) http://www.amazon.com/Dan-Alatorre/e/B00EUX7HEU/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_pop_1