A Sunday Drive on a Tuesday

22 Nov

Do you remember Sunday drives? Those were the days when there were only three channels on the television, stores were closed, and families spent their time together at home, not on soccer fields. Now days, if we get behind someone on a Sunday drive frustration sets in and tempers flair.

I remember Sunday drives with my grandparents. We would pile into his spacious, Pepto-Bismol pink, Lincoln Continental and set off of an unknown destination. The seats were so low that my brother and I used to stand up to look out the windows as we meandered through neighborhoods or past the beach, just watching time go by. After an hour or so, my grandpa would head back to our house where my mom had cooked up delicious dinner that we would share as an extended family around the dining room table.

It’s not what we saw on our trips that I really remember, it’s the way that our time was spent. Our Sunday drives weren’t meant to be hurried or for a purpose. They were a way for us to spend time together, learn about the world around us and listen to stories my grandparents passed on to us.

So the next time you get behind a Sunday driver, instead of bolting around them, toot your horn, give them a wave and wish them well on their memorable journey.

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