Last Ride

                   I sat back on the nice, cushioned seat as my father backed out of the driveway onto the street. I didn’t realize at the time that this would be my last ride with my parents. For so many years, we took this drive just to get out of the house.

             “Today we are going to take a drive out to the country,” my father would say on many occasions. “Today we are going to take a drive in the city,” he would also say quite a bit, but less as he got older.

             Interpretation of country meant that we would take a drive where few people tampered with mother nature. Looked to my left and right, seeing fields, bushes, woods, and houses here and there. People who wanted to be away from humanity and their constant problems. When I was young, I thought the country drives were boring, but as I got older, it became more pleasant. To see the beauty of the land. To feel the peace and quiet. Something many people do not experience much due to having busy lives or just sitting home enjoying the electronic world. These drives helped me to slow down and see the larger picture of life. No need to explain what it means to drive in the city. 

             There were also times we did both, which was what was happening today. Out to the country then the city or city then the country. As he got older there were less drives in the city because traffic tended to be more stressful. My dad just liked to drive the routes he took so many times as a deputy. Took him back to his younger days. Good and bad times as part of the law enforcement world.

             As we started our drive, I loved to hear all the stories my father would talk about when it came to his days as a deputy or stories he heard when he was younger.

             “Shaw road,” he said as we passed the street. “All you see now are houses and buildings as you drive up the road. During my days as a deputy, I would get reports a few times a year of howls and other weird sounds since it was all woods at the time. You had homes that were more like cabins back in those days. Many thought it was the famous Bigfoot. I figured it was drunkards out there being high on life.”

             Even though I heard the stories a few times, it always made me chuckle.

             We continued out into the suburbs that would eventually lead back into the city, then back to the suburbs. We took a right and started on a long stretch of highway that began with fields to my left and right before buildings started popping up.

             “Every time I come to the bridge coming up, I think of your friend at school, James,” my father said as he was coming up to a narrow bridge.

             The friend, Frank, wasn’t one I hung out with much in elementary school but was very friendly toward everyone. Unfortunately, his father robbed a convenience store and tried to escape. Ended up smashing into this bridge, ending his life. Frank left the school soon after.

             We eventually came to a small town where we had to slow down to a crawl, so we weren’t ticketed. A small town where I spent the summer years ago partying with my brother and many others. Not sure how many times I drove home with a good buzz. I was a lucky idiot.

             As we drove out of town, we passed the Old Soldiers Home, where men and women of the different wars resided. I had an uncle that stayed there for a bit. One year we watched the fireworks show they put on for the 4th of July. Best show I have seen in my many years.

             We soon hit the country where most of the landscape is covered with trees. A beautiful drive during the Fall with the multiple colors of the leaves. There have been times that we stopped, got out, and took in the silence. Just the sound of the birds. A stress reliever in so many ways.

             For the next half an hour, we moved along with little talk as we took in the scenery. There have been times that my dad would point out all the spots that had dirt roads heading out to nowhere, and the parties that would take place. He would come upon the partiers occasionally as a deputy and give them a warning.

             As we drove that final drive, I saw all the roads either had a chain across the entrance or cement blocks. No more parties unless you walk.

             We eventually came to a T in the road. A left takes you further out to the country and away from humanity. This time we took a right and toward the depravity of the city.

             It is during this part of the ride that my father talked the most about what he experienced the most as a deputy. As I became older and older, the stories he told went from robberies to shootings to gruesome deaths. There were times my mother had to stop his talk, since it was more than what I needed to hear. Car wrecks, shootings, stabbings, suicides, abductions, abuse, rape, and every other sin humanity commits. It gave me great respect for law enforcement and little respect for the ones who despise them. Like most aspects of life, people like to judge a situation that they only know a fraction of the full picture. There are bad cops, just like every profession. Unfortunately, they have weapons and are the ones who should be enforcing and embracing the law. Luckily, it’s only a small fraction. Ignorant people label all of them as bad. Let go of your emotions and let common sense take back over. I have dealt with terrible law enforcement but know there are many good ones dealing with the evils of society.

             We go through the city and see the jungle humanity has created. Respect has gone out the window as leaders cower at the few who squawk and mindlessly go about ruining lives. I would rather go out to the country as I get older since the lawless rule the streets. There is always a light, but will it ever come back to the cities? I pray so.

             My father drives through the city at a quick pace. A couple of times I have seen a tear at the corner of his eye as he sees the sickness that has gripped the city since he traversed the streets so many years ago.

             We soon got out of the city and back to the suburbs. We stopped and got an ice cream cone and drove on until we returned home. My parent’s home, and mine for many years.

             I looked at the ‘For Sale’ sign in the front yard.

             “This could be our last drive?” I thought.

             My thought became true for the house sold soon after. They moved, and I moved with them, and life moved on.

             Now, in the present, I live back in the area, and I drive the same route as my parents did. Now, I will tell the stories my father once told me now to my family, but I keep them PG rated. I tend to take more country drives than into the city. As I drive, I never know if this will be my last drive.