The Driver in Retrospect

The Driver in Retrospect

The backseat was my cradle.

I don’t remember the first ride or many after it.

I remember the roads, the canyons, the freeways.

It is both a blur and all so clear.

On the long drives, from say LA to Phoenix, it was often like a dream.

Josh and I would be sleeping in the backseat.

Mom would be sleeping in the front seat.

And you just drove.

Whatever happened on the way, the angry honking, passing cars on narrow lanes, you did it.

You were never lost, an uncanny sense of direction and memory for every road.

All drama to the contrary,  while she was always angry at you for maneuvers she would never be capable of, we always got to our destination.

May 15, 2015

Ode for my dad the driver

Ode for my dad the driver

I wish you had died driving and not in a hospital bed.

You were the king of the road, but too often, a serf of life.

You loved the road and the road loved you.

It forgave you like none of us ever did.

On the road you usually got away with it, but off road you paid constantly for your fuckups.

While you survived every Dead Man’s Curve, passing cars on Laurel Canyon, and god only knows what else, it was your body that killed you.

Sure, we were prepared and got off shock free as you wasted away.

We had to take the keys away from you and you lost the place you belonged.

No longer a driver, you became a passenger to life and a victim to your own body.

Still, I wish there was a place for old drivers to go.  A road they could take that would provide a last thrill, a chance to blow the horn, and a final turn.

-Adam Markus

May 14, 2015