Heh, me.

I have race car driver blood running through my veins. My dad used to race stock cars before I was born, winning many a trophy, now long lost. He passed his love of speed on to most of his 11 children.

Growing up we had a red early 70’s Ford Ranchero, and one particular memory stands out in my mind. We were driving on the freeway and my father, my mother and the 2 youngest sat inside the cab. Four more of us kids, all probably younger than 9 or 10, sat in the back of the truck. There was no cap.

My dad unexpectedly announced through the slider window that we were going to hit 100 MPH. In the back, our faces instantly pressed wide-eyed against the back glass and we gripped our small hands on the opening of the slider window to hold on.

As we peered in, looking at the speedometer on the dash, our speed climbed faster and faster, we were screaming gleefully down the highway as we rushed past car after car. In fact, he took us up to 110 before my mother’s threats finally got him to slow down. I still remember that exhilarating feeling, there in the back of the truck, my long blonde hair whipping violently around my face, as we flew down the road. We didn’t think about the danger we were in, we were safe with daddy, right?

Fast forward to today, and I still love that feeling of going fast. When I was car shopping 2-3 years ago, I made the mistake of test driving a Jeep with a 5.7 Hemi. I was in love. The way the vehicle responded when I “stepped ‘er down,” coupled with cylinder shut-down for mileage, it was a win-win, I had to have her.

Now-a-days, on my commute, when faced with Prius’, Caddies, and Subarus puttering 60 in the fast lane, I joyfully “give ‘er” around them in the slow lane and rush by, in a brief moment of adrenaline. Some mornings, when I leave early and there’s no traffic, it’s fun to push her up over 90, just ever-so-briefly in a moment of defiant freedom. I’m a Highway Star.

I know in my heart God (Our Father) doesn’t want us to cruise slowly and safely in the slow lane all our lives. We should stretch the boundaries and get out of our comfort zones. I prefer to believe that sometimes he likes for us to live a bit bold and wild, pushing our limits and tasting the extremes, hair flying wild. After all, we’re safe with daddy.


4 thoughts on “Heh, me.

  1. I love how you write Anne. You have a way with words that draws me into your story.

  2. Enjoyed sharing your memories of your dad. Those of us that can ecko your feeling of ” it has to be safe because it’s dad” are indeed fortunate. I remember a similar ridea in a 38 Chevrolet with my dad & mom. He was the greatest.

    My thoughts and prayers are with you !!!

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