Last night, I ran the multimedia system at a meeting for fathers of autistic children. The men there were all sharing the memorable moments and times they had with their own fathers, and the ones with their own sons, so I thought I’d post about one of my good memories.
Dad was in the trucking industry, so he traveled for business frequently, and occasionally, he would let me ride along with him if I was off from school or something. I totally enjoyed this, as I felt that I was doing a “big guy” thing. Back in the eighties when I was growing up, Dad had an Oldsmobile station wagon with a diesel engine in it. It sounded like a semi truck. It was just a station wagon, but to me, I was riding in a big rig with Dad! Dad even had the right music for it, and I would ask him to put the “Trucking song” in the stereo, which was Alabama’s “Roll on Eighteen Wheeler” while we rode around. Since it was just the two of us, I got to ride in the front seat (these are the days before those dangerous air bags!) which gave me a privileged feeling. Dad would make his rounds at the trucking companies, and occasionally, they would even let me ride on the fork-lift as they unloaded and loaded the trucks, or one of the drivers would let me sit in the cab of their truck. On the longer road trips, Dad would have me help navigate. I would check the maps and the mile posts and compare them with the map, letting him know when we were coming up on places we needed to turn and such. It was just him, me and the open road to enjoy together!