"Sandi, you know what I miss?" said my dad. "No Dad, what do you miss?" I replied. "Driving" he said.
My dad died in 2000 at the age of 83. The last years of his life in living in Florida, in heart failure and suffering from dementia. He had given up driving voluntarily in his 70's because he realized he was a danger behind the wheel. He had issues with walking because of a disease call peripheral neuropathy which meant he couldn't feel his legs or feet. So the man that once traveled the world was now confined to rides for errands or doctor's appointments.
As I drove home the other day from my own doctor appointment down in Keene, NH up Route 12 heading towards home, I watched the sky as the sun set.
Winter is coming to New England and just a few days before I had the ritual of having my summer tires taken off my vehicle and my winter tires mounted and balanced. Unless you live in a region where snow takes over the roads for a portion of the year you are probably unfamiliar with this ritual. I remember it from my childhood. My dad's car, my mom's car and eventually my car going through this every year. Dragging the snows out from storage, going down to the local garage and having the switch made. It marked the end of one season, the start of another and it still does for me.
I was listening to the hum of my tires. I felt the steering wheel in my hand and I admired how even the oddest looking of vehicles (I own a Honda Element) can feel so wonderful when being driven. Feeling the dips and curves in the road. Steering around the bends, gas pedal, brake pedal, even in a vehicle that is not a sports care or even fancy it is a wonderful feeling.
As I moved speedily along I watched the sky. The sunsets start earlier this time of year. It was only about 4:30 pm and the gray clouds had parted enough for the last rays of the sun to color them and the sky in vivid shades of pink and gold. The clouds themselves like cotton balls pulled by childish hands. Round and fluffy here then stretch across the sky with sharp and flattened edges. Greys of various shades colored the clouds. At one point a cloud appeared diagonally up from the others, breaking into a free space and the sun painted it gold like the wing of a phoenix about to take flight from the ashes of the day.
With every mile the scenery changed. There are no 'flat' roads in that drive between Keene and home. There are places where it seems flat but if you pay attention you realize it's not. Even with all the technology of road building, New England roads cannot be flat. It is against their nature. There are always small dips and rises. Just as a New England road cannot stay straight for long as there will always be curves, following rivers, creeks and the sides of hills and mountains.
There is one spot along Route 12 where for a brief time you can see the breath and width of the Connecticut valley laid out before you. The fields slope towards the river in New Hampshire and rise on the other side in Vermont. At sunset you can see the lights in homes in both states start to come on. This view has always taken my breath away. It is beautiful and serene and it is just a moment or two in my drive. I realized as I watched the scenery change, passed the houses with lights flickering on in the dusk, drove along the road with my fellow commuters that I to would miss driving. I finally understood what my dad meant. I love where I live but being able to get in my vehicle and go elsewhere is nothing short of amazing. It is something we take for granted. The scenery so familiar from so many drives in one direction or another become new and different if you take a second to see it that way. Watching the seasons change, how the fog lowers down on a mountain top, how rain can change a landscape. These are things we forget to see as we drive. We concentrate on getting there, where ever there is. Getting there faster, getting there before the other guy. Paying attention to what is around us while we drive also makes us better at driving. You don't just concentrate on the 'tunnel' that is the road. You take into consideration how the road feels under your tires, what the weather is like, you look more around you to see what is there and in doing that you just may see what may happen. Guess it comes down to just being a simile to life. Slow down a bit, enjoy it while your here because at some point you may realize like I did, that missing driving is also missing life. I came to that conclusion with my dad when I looked at what he had done with the old black and white photos of his mom, dad and sisters. He had tore the backgrounds away leaving only the upper torsos and faces. He had spent his life achieving. Taking little time to slow down and enjoy the ride. So in his dementia he ripped away the backgrounds and saved the faces so he could remember them, those whom he missed. There was no more driving. No place to go.
We all miss something or someone that is inevitable. Just part of the human experience. But if we are lucky there will someone to drive us when if we cannot drive ourselves. Someone who will enjoy the feel of the road and be willing to look at the sunsets with us.
My dad died in 2000 at the age of 83. The last years of his life in living in Florida, in heart failure and suffering from dementia. He had given up driving voluntarily in his 70's because he realized he was a danger behind the wheel. He had issues with walking because of a disease call peripheral neuropathy which meant he couldn't feel his legs or feet. So the man that once traveled the world was now confined to rides for errands or doctor's appointments.
As I drove home the other day from my own doctor appointment down in Keene, NH up Route 12 heading towards home, I watched the sky as the sun set.
Winter is coming to New England and just a few days before I had the ritual of having my summer tires taken off my vehicle and my winter tires mounted and balanced. Unless you live in a region where snow takes over the roads for a portion of the year you are probably unfamiliar with this ritual. I remember it from my childhood. My dad's car, my mom's car and eventually my car going through this every year. Dragging the snows out from storage, going down to the local garage and having the switch made. It marked the end of one season, the start of another and it still does for me.
I was listening to the hum of my tires. I felt the steering wheel in my hand and I admired how even the oddest looking of vehicles (I own a Honda Element) can feel so wonderful when being driven. Feeling the dips and curves in the road. Steering around the bends, gas pedal, brake pedal, even in a vehicle that is not a sports care or even fancy it is a wonderful feeling.
As I moved speedily along I watched the sky. The sunsets start earlier this time of year. It was only about 4:30 pm and the gray clouds had parted enough for the last rays of the sun to color them and the sky in vivid shades of pink and gold. The clouds themselves like cotton balls pulled by childish hands. Round and fluffy here then stretch across the sky with sharp and flattened edges. Greys of various shades colored the clouds. At one point a cloud appeared diagonally up from the others, breaking into a free space and the sun painted it gold like the wing of a phoenix about to take flight from the ashes of the day.
With every mile the scenery changed. There are no 'flat' roads in that drive between Keene and home. There are places where it seems flat but if you pay attention you realize it's not. Even with all the technology of road building, New England roads cannot be flat. It is against their nature. There are always small dips and rises. Just as a New England road cannot stay straight for long as there will always be curves, following rivers, creeks and the sides of hills and mountains.
There is one spot along Route 12 where for a brief time you can see the breath and width of the Connecticut valley laid out before you. The fields slope towards the river in New Hampshire and rise on the other side in Vermont. At sunset you can see the lights in homes in both states start to come on. This view has always taken my breath away. It is beautiful and serene and it is just a moment or two in my drive. I realized as I watched the scenery change, passed the houses with lights flickering on in the dusk, drove along the road with my fellow commuters that I to would miss driving. I finally understood what my dad meant. I love where I live but being able to get in my vehicle and go elsewhere is nothing short of amazing. It is something we take for granted. The scenery so familiar from so many drives in one direction or another become new and different if you take a second to see it that way. Watching the seasons change, how the fog lowers down on a mountain top, how rain can change a landscape. These are things we forget to see as we drive. We concentrate on getting there, where ever there is. Getting there faster, getting there before the other guy. Paying attention to what is around us while we drive also makes us better at driving. You don't just concentrate on the 'tunnel' that is the road. You take into consideration how the road feels under your tires, what the weather is like, you look more around you to see what is there and in doing that you just may see what may happen. Guess it comes down to just being a simile to life. Slow down a bit, enjoy it while your here because at some point you may realize like I did, that missing driving is also missing life. I came to that conclusion with my dad when I looked at what he had done with the old black and white photos of his mom, dad and sisters. He had tore the backgrounds away leaving only the upper torsos and faces. He had spent his life achieving. Taking little time to slow down and enjoy the ride. So in his dementia he ripped away the backgrounds and saved the faces so he could remember them, those whom he missed. There was no more driving. No place to go.
We all miss something or someone that is inevitable. Just part of the human experience. But if we are lucky there will someone to drive us when if we cannot drive ourselves. Someone who will enjoy the feel of the road and be willing to look at the sunsets with us.
