Sunday Drive

Often on Sunday’s my father would announce after breakfast that we were going for a drive.  Now the Sunday Drive as I remember it, never had a destination, it was all shoot from the hip, let’s try this out, we have never been there before, and we would head out.

serenity

Being a card carrying member of the baby-boom generation I can testify that I grew up with the automobile.  Several automobiles to be exact, my father used to buy a new car about every two and one-half years on average.

Most American’s my age are either car lovers or were in one the majority of their lives.

Often on Sunday’s my father would announce after breakfast that we were going for a drive.  Now the Sunday Drive as I remember it, never had a destination, it was all shoot from the hip, let’s try this out, we have never been there before, and we would head out.

Living in one of the greatest states in the United States for geographical wonders and things to see and do, California was our playground.  Some days the trip was to the ocean-side and the beach, others were to the mountains and one Sunday in particular, we ended up in Nevada.

To this day, I cannot figure out how, but when we stopped for gas, Dad asked the guy just “where in the world am I?” and he came back to the car and Mom said, “Well Loren, where are we?”

I remember as if it was just yesterday, my father smiled and said, “Well, we seem to be in Nevada my dear.”

And then the discussion started.

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Photo Credit  Thanks to Mike Robinson

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