I Was Driving When My Dad Died

I remember trying to convince my mom to teach me how to drive. It was the summer of 2012 and I was 15. I didn’t know a lot of kids my age at the time who drove, and certainly no girls. So it was a huge deal for me.

One fine day, my mom finally had me sit behind the steering wheel. I raced the pedal, shifted gears, and successfully completed a round of our small township. My mom was super proud (like they always are with everything we do), but when I got home and told my dad, he wasn’t so much. The most he did was shift his focus from the newspaper to me for the 30 seconds that I was blabbering.

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