The sunlight fell generously on the open highway as the wind seemed to sing of the journey’s end and all its subsequent new beginnings. ”Just a sec,” said his dad, pulling his truck off the highway. “I just wanna make sure everything’s strapped down back there….. stay in the car.”
“Yes sir” he replied, only too amused. While he wanted nothing more than a short graze in the spring soaked fields at the side of the highway, it pleased him to reciprocate his fathers protective instinct- no matter how obsolete it had become.
Content with it, he rolled down the window to get as close to the beautiful Ontario countryside as he could - while still remaining in the car. The view seemed to reflect every time he’d ever been in the car with his dad; all those times he’d stare at the countryside and think about… whatever he wanted to at the time.*
The sunlight seemed to just roll off the vibrant grasses, as the wind tickled the trees into near hysteria. On the horizon windmills twirled and danced as if to say: “come and play with us.” It made him want to join a circus someday.
His father re-entered the truck and observed the rear view mirror: “Oh! that’s a lot of traffic behind us.” Before the words so much as left his mouth the truck was pulling forward and at the moment his first two wheels met the road, he revved it (and it was quite exhilarating). It had always been a family trait to drive a little too fast.
As his father accelerated he felt the wind on his face and remembered the excitement of those strong gusts from his youth. He recalled that his hair had parted in the way it did because of windy car rides with his father, like this one.