Driving Dads Truck

     Each time I drive my dads truck, so many memories start coming back to me. This is the truck I curb hopped in the day I got my drivers permit. "Hey There Delilah" by Plain White Ts was on the radio and my dad said that was a sign I would pass and I did. For years I rode in this truck to bass fishing tournaments. We also took this truck to his work to fish on the docks. There were so many trips to the ABC store. My dad called it the "American Boys Club". This is the truck that pulled his landscaping trailer. I would meet him at his customers yards to help and she would be sitting on the side streets. I named her Whitey. When I was younger my dad would ask which truck I wanted to take and I would always choose her. It still seems unreal not to see my dad driving her or hear him pull up to my house and start cutting my grass or start trimming my gardenia and azalea bushes. Learning to live without someone you love is so hard. Not meeting my dad for dinner after work or after I leave the gym has been the hardest thing for me to get used to. We ate dinner together almost every night. He made the best striper bites and chicken wings. For breakfast he loved to make bacon and sausage with fried potatoes and onions. And don't let my dad fool you, he was a snacker. He loved his jelly belly jelly beans, York peppermint patties, and Andes mints. Memories are all I have left. I'm finally getting to a point where I can smile when I talk about him instead of crying or shutting down. When I drive Whitey, I feel like my dad is there in the passenger seat riding along. I can hear him singing along to the radio while I sit at a traffic light. He is always on my mind and forever in my heart.