My Father

We’re driving. Through hayfields and cotton. Because daddy liked to drive. Because that’s what families used to do before smartphones. Because there was little else to do except to watch lead paint dry.

So we took drives.

Blue collar Americans like my family drove all the time. We drove on Christmas morning, after opening presents. Daddy fired up the family heap on the Fourth of July, before the fireworks. On my birthday, we all hopped in the fifth-hand station wagon and drove until the earth ran out.

We drove whenever slight boredom overtook my father. We drove especially on overcast days, when the sky looked like polished steel, when the air was chilly, when the smell of woodsmoke was in the air.

I’m not sure what driving accomplished. But gas was cheap. And the world was so big.

We were big automobile-singers, too. Daddy and I sang duets as he drove. He would start by singing: “Well, I looked over Jordan and what did I see?”

My part was to answer: “Coming for to carry me home!”

Whereupon he’d sing: “I see a band of angels, coming after me…!”

“Coming for to carry me home!”

I sang harmony. Which was no small chore when singing with my father. If you were going to sing with my old man, you had to give it all you had.

Because Daddy was deaf in his left ear. So he sang like a 180-decibel rocket launch. As a result, one thing I have never struggled with is quietness.

We’d sing until we reached some far flung filling station, way out in the sticks. We’d stop. We’d walk inside and see a man about a dog.

Daddy would ask the man at the counter about this and that. They’d laugh together. Shoot the bull.

People always liked my father. He always asked how their mothers were doing. Daddy always knew how to draw people out of themselves. He was just like that.

We could have been in Bangladesh, where nobody spoke English, and my father would have known everything about every so-and-so he met on the street. He was Mister Friendship.

If we stopped at one of those country-store-slash-gas-stations that served hot food, we’d get tater logs, pulled pork, fried pickles, or whatever. If it was one of those filling stations with no hot food, we would load up on black licorice.

My father was nuts about black licorice. Me, I could take it or leave it. I don’t hate licorice. I don’t love it. I’m licorice-Switzerland.

Frankly, I’ve never understood the appeal of black licorice. For starters, it’s not very sweet, and it tastes like NyQuil.

When our drive was finished, we’d simply turn the car around and drive back home. And that was all there was to it.

Our drives were uneventful. Pointless. Wasteful, even. You squandered gas, you stared at miles of foraging grass, and all you had to show for it was an empty bag of licorice.

But I still go for drives. All the time, actually. Especially on days like today. Overcast days. When the sky looks like steel. When the air smells of woodsmoke.

I drive. I eat licorice. I talk to gas station cashiers. And I remember a man who was an enthusiast of all things World War II. A man who was a disciple of military aircraft.

A man who once wanted to be a Navy pilot, but was rejected because he was deaf in his left ear.

A mischievous man with a troublemaking smile and a preference for cheap beer. A man who once told me, “Always obey your parents when they are present.” A man who was so troubled, so sad, so confused, that he ended everything. And he took half of me with him.

When I drive, I still hear my old man’s tenor voice singing. “…I see a band of angels coming after me, coming for to carry me home.”

And I smile. Because one morning, the angels finally did.


  1. Kam snyder - February 8, 2023 12:58 pm

    He is still singing with you❤️

  2. mccutchen52 - February 8, 2023 1:01 pm

    My wife’s father was like that. When I married his daughter he would come by and just tell us to get in and away we would go. He would see a truck somewhere and stop and talk to the owner for a while then tell my wife and I to take it back to his house. People were always looking out for a good used truck and sometimes on our “ride arounds” he would find one. If nothing else there was always ice cream.

  3. Ann Thompson - February 8, 2023 1:09 pm


  4. Stacey Edwards - February 8, 2023 1:15 pm

    It’s wonderful that you have great memories of your dad Sean! You make a difference in people’s lives in the words you write. He is proud of you!💖

  5. STEVE MOORE WATKINS - February 8, 2023 1:19 pm

    My dad flew a B-17. Flying Fortress. He sang “you getta line and I’ll getta pole, honey”…and Onward Christian Soldiers.

    • Becky - February 8, 2023 5:12 pm

      My dad was with the Flying Fortress also and he sang Marty Robbin’s El Paso!!

  6. Russell Moulton - February 8, 2023 1:20 pm

    Good one Sean!memories

  7. Linda Lewis - February 8, 2023 1:24 pm

    This is a beautiful tribute to your father. I’m sorry he had to leave you like he did. As one who has had an experience with a family member’s suicide, I know how sad and hard and it is. I will keep you in my prayers.

  8. lesampson - February 8, 2023 1:26 pm

    Your post brought back happy moments with my dad. He made a friend at every gas station, really anyplace we went. We lost him 5 years ago on Valentine’s Day. Praying the angels carried him home too.

  9. Carol - February 8, 2023 1:26 pm

    Beautiful, AGAIN❤️❤️❤️

  10. Sandra Messersmith - February 8, 2023 1:29 pm

    Please, whatever else you do in this life, do not stop writing. You, truly, are the Mark Twain of our generation. You are so very valuable to our society because, hayseed or not, you paint life with your words. You call life as you see it and there are so many in our day who live in a fantasy world and miss the realities you share. Besides, a man who loves Marigold, deserves to be loved in return!

    • Susie - February 8, 2023 2:35 pm

      Sandra, you are right!! Sean IS the Mark Twain of our generation!!

  11. Heidi the Canuck - February 8, 2023 1:30 pm

    My dad was a steel worker with an artisan’s heart. He used to take me out for a drive after every summer thunderstorm. We drove along the Niagara escarpment with the windows down, breathing in the scent of Eden washed clean. I still love a drive without a destination. These days my husband and I (a couple of old folks) do it on motorcycles, but that doesn’t work too well in Ontario from say, November through March. So we trailer the bikes to Florida and ride through the backroads under borrowed sunshine. Live oaks. Spanish moss. Cattle and horses grazing in the fields. Friendly people. Sweet tea. It’s cathartic. Until we end up on I-4 for a stretch. Then it’s time to pray and practice patience with our fellow man. Love the U.S. Sun’s shining today. God bless America!

  12. Melissa Brown - February 8, 2023 1:32 pm

    Oh Sean, your father was a fine man. He taught you your gift of easily getting to know people. I believe he loved his family very much. I am sorry he left y’all so soon.

  13. Roger Koppenhofer - February 8, 2023 1:34 pm

    Swing low, sweet Chariot, comin for to carry me home. They came for my dad a long time ago, I’m 89, and patiently waiting, reading of your experiences. Thank you, I enjoy them soooo much. My son favorite saying, “theirs not enough ohs in smooth for my H”. H, for Harrison, his son, played shortstop in high school.
    Bless you for the way you show your faith, can be seen in everything you write.

  14. Trudy - February 8, 2023 1:36 pm

    I’m glad you have these precious memories. It’s the little things, like car rides, that mean so much now. My father lost his father to suicide on Christmas morning when he was 14 yo. You have to remember the good times. Bless you, Sean

  15. denise - February 8, 2023 1:41 pm

    I wish I could have been there to hug you and your Mom, and could your hand. That’s all a friend can do.

  16. Douglas Amiel Wielfaert - February 8, 2023 1:43 pm

    Beautiful, touching word picture

  17. EPGregg - February 8, 2023 1:45 pm


  18. Cynthia Sand - February 8, 2023 1:49 pm

    Sean, you are definitely a chip off the ol’ block. Mr. Friendship the second. I’m always amazed what you learn and share about the people you meet. Hallelujah for the singing! My daddy sang made up songs as he drove often with made up words. I often come out with them unawares. Praise be to those good men who raised us and loved us and let it rip!

  19. Helen De Prima - February 8, 2023 1:49 pm

    Your daddy left us all a helluva legacy.

  20. P Deas - February 8, 2023 1:56 pm

    Wow you can tell by your writings what a profound impact your fathers death by suicide had on you. I personally think taking that way out is as selfish as a person can be . I don’t think the family that is left behind ever gets over it…so very sad because it seems like your father was a character with multiple talents.BTW As a child I would steal all the black jellybeans out of my sisters Easter baskets …heck I still do and I’m 72…

    • Susie - February 8, 2023 2:46 pm

      Yes, P Deas, it does seem like a selfish way out, when others who love and depend on you are left behind. But, keep in mind Sean’s dad’s pain was so great, that, at that point, he could not see beyond his pain and did not seek and or receive help, and was so depressed that he could not bring himself up and out of it. Terribly SAD for everyone. 😭

    • Smith Katherine - February 8, 2023 4:58 pm

      Dear P Deas, “I personally think taking that way out is as selfish as a person can be.” From someone who has first hand knowledge, suicide is the least selfish thing the person can do.
      They are in so much pain that in their mental fog they will do anything to make the pain stop.
      We are not dealing with a rational person. Many suicidal individuals believe they are the cause of all the problems and eliminating themselves would help their loved ones.
      Again ~ We are dealing with a person with mental health issues! Try to give grace and understanding to them, not judgement.

      • P.Deas - February 9, 2023 1:45 am

        Every situation is different,I was speaking for myself as you are…I’m not judging anyone!

    • Marcia - February 9, 2023 1:14 am

      I don’t think they’re selfish to end their life!
      They’re troubled. Troubled deeply. Often they can’t pinpoint what IS troubling them. They go through life faking happiness.
      A friend who suffers from depression told me the only way to describe how she feels is…… a cement block on your brain that paralyzes your entire body. Your thoughts. Your feelings. Your heart. If we’ve not experienced it, we can’t understand it.
      I can’t even imagine that feeling but it’s got to be beyond horrible. No one can live with horrible. I pray our Lord receives them with open arms.

  21. Judy Cain - February 8, 2023 1:58 pm

    I’m singing that today :-). All day 🙂

  22. Tawanah Fagan Bagwell - February 8, 2023 1:59 pm

    Oh, Sean! What a tribute to your dad. Those are good memories. We still like to take drives. I had my Daddy till I was 31. He wasn’t a singer but, he was a talker. He was in World War II and he told funny stories of his antics in the Navy. He never told us the bad stuff. I wish we had an easier way to get our parents on video like he do today. We need to get our loved ones talking.

  23. Angela V Young - February 8, 2023 1:59 pm

    Sean, Your ability to put a reader right beside you in the moment is breathtaking!

  24. Peggy M. Windham - February 8, 2023 2:02 pm

    What an awesome time for you to spend with your dad. I’d give anything to spend another day with mine!😢🙏💜

  25. Lyn Brown - February 8, 2023 2:10 pm

    My dad did the same.. he sang “Rolling Home… ‘Happy as the day when the army gets his pay, as we go rolling, rolling home!’l He was born in 1908… been gone 40 years, and I still miss him every day.

  26. Ann - February 8, 2023 2:12 pm

    Sadly a beautiful memory… keep driving and singing.. it helps

  27. Helen - February 8, 2023 2:13 pm

    Late 50s and early 60s…same thing, only different! Mother was a widow. Our car did not have a radio in it. We had specific songs we sang, our riding sings! “Jesus loves me I know, keeps my pathway aglow,”. “She’ll be coming around the mountain when she comes” and many others. We sang and laughed and sang some more. We loved driving and singing. Thank you for the reminder!!!

  28. sjhl7 - February 8, 2023 2:13 pm

    Great memories of Sunday afternoon drives just to see what was going on in our little world!

  29. Suellen - February 8, 2023 2:18 pm

    It sounds like he packed a lot of living in his short life at least in all the important ways. He showed how much he loved you in dozens of ways. God rest his soul.

  30. donna from Iowa - February 8, 2023 2:18 pm

    AThanks for the great start to mu day

  31. johnny Blevins - February 8, 2023 2:23 pm


  32. Mary Coley - February 8, 2023 2:27 pm

    Beautiful story. So, so beautiful! ❤️

  33. Jan Linden - February 8, 2023 2:40 pm

    I know he is so very proud of his only son.

  34. Dolores - February 8, 2023 2:44 pm

    Ours were Sunday drives. Sixty years ago this part of Virginia was agricultural; mostly fruit orchards and corn, alfalfa and timothy fields. I bet there were more cows than people in our county then. Maybe sheep too. And everyone had a garden.

    My parents would comment on how full or low ponds were. If a field or garden was freshly plowed Dad would make a visual assessment of the soil. One of my parents would hope aloud that a late frost wouldn’t harm the orchards or gardens. I’d excitedly point out the newest and cutest born livestock. Both my parents were impressed with well kept gardens with healthy looking vegetation. We were always hoping for adequate rain.

    Most mom and pop stores were closed on Sunday. But there was one in the next county that was open. Probably because the family lived in the back. If our drive was headed in that direction we knew we were going to be treated to hand-dipped ice cream cones. Good ice cream, very close to homemade and in flavors we country bumpkins viewed as exotic. Black cherry was my favorite.

    We’d hear some of the family history too. Homes and landmarks were pointed out: ‘your Aunt Lucille kept house there when the momma was sick, your grandmother put up the wallpaper in that home, your granddaddy helped build that house, we picked peaches there and so on.

    Great times. Simple pleasures.
    I’d be interested in how your Dad lost his hearing in the one ear.

  35. Debbie Harbin Hining - February 8, 2023 2:46 pm

    Loved reading your column today! I loved riding with my Daddy, too. I smiled when you mentioned he went in the store to see a man about a dog. My Daddy loved whiskey and we often stopped by a liquor store but I wasn’t allowed to go in with Daddy. “He always would tell me he had to go in to see a man about a dog” and I had to wait in the car. I would get so excited thinking we were finally getting a puppy. He would come back with a sack of whiskey but no puppy. I would ask about the dog and he always replied they didn’t have any today!

    • Susie - February 8, 2023 3:05 pm


  36. Tracy Jayne - February 8, 2023 2:47 pm

    I love this so much. I had the same experiences as you. Long drives on a dusty road passing the cotton fields of Texas, stopping at the local gas station too but we got Vienna sausage and a pack of crackers and hot sauce. My daddy didn’t sing but he loved listening to Hank Sr., Elvis and Ernest Tubb. 5 little girls in the back of a station wagon just happy to be with our parents. I cherish those memories as you do. Thank you!

  37. Belinda - February 8, 2023 2:51 pm

    This was a beautiful tribute/reflection of a man to remember. He sounds wonderful and i know i would have liked him very much. You are blessed to have your good memories. I bet YOU are all the things you loved about him.

  38. Cathy M - February 8, 2023 2:57 pm

    I wish I had known your dad. He and my dad would have been soulmates. I wish I could have coffee with you and talk about dads. He took part of your heart with him when he left this world but what he left with you has done magical things. You don’t even know how many people who reach for the phone every morning to read your wonderful words. Sometimes we cry, sometimes we laugh but you never fail to touch our hearts in a meaningful way. God had a plan for that broken hearted boy and all your followers are blessed. Someone is smiling in heaven and I imagine he is saying, That’s my boy and he is bursting with pride. You are loved by so many. Happy Wednesday to you, Jamie and Marigold❤️

  39. Susie - February 8, 2023 3:02 pm

    Sean, I have great memories also of riding in the car with my dad to his work place in the summers when I was out of school for the summer. On the way back,home, we would stop for lunch at an A and W for a burger, fries and an ice cold mug of their great root beer. I remember we would both make mmmmm sounds over how good it was! He, like your dad, also loved black licorice. But, unlike you, I loved it, too! Great memories!,

  40. Melissa Claunch - February 8, 2023 3:03 pm

    As much as we miss our loved ones here on earth, there is great comfort knowing they are in Glory, suffering no longer.

  41. Chasity Davis Ritter, Freddie’s daughter - February 8, 2023 3:04 pm

    We can’t ever escape think of our dads can we? Today is 4 years, 5 months and 1 day (and 4 1/2 hours) since the angels took my daddy too. I think of him all the time but some times way more than others. I think of car rides with him too and songs he sang along with. I sure do miss him.

  42. Gigi - February 8, 2023 3:06 pm

    What a beautiful tribute to your Dad ! You paint word pictures so beautifully that I felt as though I was in the car singing with you and your Dad. As a 50’s kid we used to take drives too. Our drives were always on the weekends. If it was a Saturday drive, it was just our family. But, if it was on a Sunday afternoon (after Sunday School, church, and lunch of course), we’d drive to my Dad’s sister’s house who lived only 3 or 4 minutes away. My Aunt, Uncle, & cousins would follow us in their car and we’d drive out somewhere in the countryside enjoying the views. Eventually we’d stop and get out for a soda pop and a candy bar, or an ice cream cup (with a wooden spoon) at some rural gas station. Oh, those were the days ! My Dad’s been gone 16 years and I still miss him every day. Unfortunately, my dear Mother, Aunt, Uncle, and one of my younger cousins from those “Sunday Car Ride” days are gone from this earth too. But, I know I’ll be seeing them again before too long. You’ll see your Dad again someday too Sean ! Just think of the glorious reunion that awaits us ! ❤️

  43. Linda Hubbard - February 8, 2023 3:15 pm


  44. elliemac3 - February 8, 2023 3:22 pm

    Yes the angels did. And he is whole and complete now and I love envisioning your joyful reunion one day. Thank you for your wonderful posts Sean!

  45. Julie Chitwood - February 8, 2023 3:23 pm

    Such sweet memories of taking rides with my grandfather. He’s been gone forty years and I miss him every day. Every. Single. Day. ❤️

  46. Shana - February 8, 2023 3:31 pm

    This was a beautiful post. I remember drives with my daddy too, who also liked black licorice. Thanks for reminding me of those days.

  47. Patricia Gibson - February 8, 2023 3:34 pm

    We took lots of drives too! There wasn’t anything else to do. We went on picnics a lot !
    A slower world. I miss it. Your Dad sounds like a great guy. I know you miss him❤️💕

  48. Suzanne Mitchell - February 8, 2023 3:36 pm


  49. Phil Hawkins - February 8, 2023 3:50 pm

    My late father’s favorite vacation when I was growing up (I’m 73 now) was to just load up the car, pick a direction, and go see what we could find. And we often found cool stuff.

  50. Kim Kennedy - February 8, 2023 3:58 pm

    Glad to hear stories about your Dad today. My miss my Daddy.

  51. Danny - February 8, 2023 4:08 pm

    Sean; every morning I get your emails I think of a song….Sean, Sean of the South, sweet potato pie and I shut my mouth…..
    Stupid, I know.
    Thanks for the brightness you shine via words. Keep up the good work!

  52. David Britnell - February 8, 2023 4:10 pm

    Beautiful memories. Love you bubba!

  53. Cathy Bartholomew - February 8, 2023 4:11 pm

    This one knocked the wind outta me a little…Oof! So courageous to delve into those waters and hold it all in tension; both the magic and the tragic. We are a mixed bag, indeed. You honor him well. Thank you for your words. Beauty will save the world.

  54. David in California - February 8, 2023 4:16 pm

    Simpler times. Fond memories (even some “not so fond” memories). Childhood. 😀

  55. alisonbaird765 - February 8, 2023 4:22 pm

    Your Daddy and my Daddy were a lot alike. My Daddy lived to 91 and that still wasn’t enough time to tell him how much I loved him. Thank you for reminding me that angels are always near. I struggle believing sometimes.

  56. Xan - February 8, 2023 4:32 pm

    Swing liw, sweet chariot…

  57. Jim Powell - February 8, 2023 4:38 pm

    And,you my dear friend, are here to sing his praises.

  58. Gayle Wilson - February 8, 2023 4:46 pm

    Sean, you may feel that your father took a part of you with him when he passed from this life to the next but, he left a part of him with you that makes you a man that likes to talk to people and make them laugh, sing songs that make people, and dogs, smile and feel a peace that is overwhelming. And those drives you take, he is right there with you and he is proud of you for not knowing a stranger when you go into those gas stations or minute markets and making observations about people who are the salt of the earth, and then writing stories that are good, wholesome, not filled with foul language, but tug the heart strings and make us want to be better people like you.

  59. Candy Clark - February 8, 2023 4:51 pm

    Oh, can I relate to this!! It was our family’s favorite pastime also, along with the licorice. I still love black licorice today! My Dad has long passed, but your story dredged up SO many wonderful memories, so thank you for sharing!!

  60. Nancy Robertson - February 8, 2023 5:28 pm

    Of course I’ve been humming Swing Low, sweet chariot all morning long! haha. Great column.

  61. H. J. Patterson - February 8, 2023 5:28 pm

    A drive where life is less hectic, simple and sparsely populated will always wash away the dust of everyday life.

  62. virginia westlake - February 8, 2023 5:30 pm

    So glad you have wonderful memories of your dad! I’m much older than you, but we went for Sunday drives to look at houses, mostly. Maybe families should bring that back.

  63. Lee Henderson - February 8, 2023 5:53 pm

    Simply beautiful

  64. Linda - February 8, 2023 6:17 pm

    So tender and poignant, Sean.

  65. Susan Sanders - February 8, 2023 6:28 pm

    Sean- I look forward to meeting your dad one day in heaven. You write so much about him that he feels like an old friend. That one final act didn’t define his life. You define his life – every single day. And he’s a stellar human.

  66. SheriK - February 8, 2023 6:38 pm

    Oh, what wonderful memories! Our drives were usually Sunday after church. Daddy and Momma would take us across town for ice cream and it was wonderful!! Funny part about it was that he always drove us thru the very poor neighborhood first, to remind us of how blessed we were.

  67. Lisa - February 8, 2023 7:06 pm

    You wrote about my Dad.

  68. Linda Moon - February 8, 2023 7:37 pm

    Daddy. That’s what I called my father. He called me Scknickelfritz. It still brings love and memories to me. He didn’t end his life, but part of mine ended then, when I was 17. If your daddy and mine have met in their Heavenly Home, they are pals now because they have a lot in common!

  69. Judie Borden - February 8, 2023 8:31 pm

    Dear Sean, do you know of the Avett Brothers??
    This is for you❤️

    No Hard Feelings (From The Motion Picture “May It Last: A Portrait of the Avett Brother…

  70. Teresa Marie - February 8, 2023 9:11 pm

    I’m a Northerner that has fallen in love with your writing

  71. Robert "Bob" Bowling - February 8, 2023 9:20 pm

    Sean. Thanks for a great column about going for a drive. I want to recommend you hear Brett Eldredge’s “Sunday Drive”. You can get it on any of the media outlets. Great and captures in song about your “Drive.”

  72. Patricia Taylor - February 8, 2023 10:33 pm

    What a wonderful tribute to your Daddy! You let us also see you as a young boy, enjoying life with him. I grew up in the fifties too and we took rides, had picnics, went fishing, etc, with my Daddy and Mother and family. Life was simple back then…thanks for sharing your heart and reminding us again that even though we didn’t have much money, we still managed to enjoy life. I’m so sorry for your great loss, but your Dad would be so proud of you…we are all proud of you. Keep writing…we all need to read it!

  73. Peggy Howell - February 9, 2023 12:19 am


  74. MAM - February 9, 2023 2:16 am

    We all miss our dads who loved us, taught us, entertained us and believed in us. I lost mine too early, too, from cancer more than 50 years ago, and I still wish I could talk to him, but i’m getting to the age, where I hope to see him again soon.

  75. Steve Winfield (lifer) - February 9, 2023 3:07 am

    Well, it’s probably a good thing you like to take drives. From my experience, there’s nothing that a dog loves more.
    A friend had this 100+ lb bulldog named Bubba. The guy always had a company pick up or van. His personal car, which he didn’t even need, was an old beater Dodge Colt with no muffler. Bubba loved the Colt. He loved it so much that when we’d be hanging out outside, cooking out, playing horse shoes, etc. Bubba would sit in the Colt for hours. Just sit up in the passenger seat like he was going for a ride. Happy & content as he could possibly be. Pretty sure he thought the Colt was his. He just rather not take the wheel.
    One of these days you have to get a picture of you and all 3 dogs going for a drive. I bet that’d be hilarious.
    Love & blessings to you, Jamie & all 3 mutts.
    Lifer Steve from Shannon, Al. but currently residing in Bessemer.

  76. Kristina Lennon - February 9, 2023 7:10 am

    I grew up in Southern California. Seal Beach matter of fact. My old man owned a car wash there. We would drive on any given weekend South to Laguna Beach or to the North to the tide pools in Palos Verdes. It was magical and parallel to all you said but on the West Coast. The sunshine was always shining and the beaches were always glistening. My dad was always a whistling. And we sang.

  77. Vicki Palefsky - February 9, 2023 11:10 am

    One of your best, Sean. From your cousin from another, born in Andalusia.

  78. Bobbye Cohen - February 9, 2023 3:38 pm

    Love this story. Thank you . Reminds me of our drives on Sunday where we went to get homemade bread and eat cheese… and pickled eggs! Xo

  79. Cheryl Singers - February 9, 2023 7:27 pm

    Didn’t know your dad had a bad ear cause he was such a good singer!

  80. Roxanne - February 9, 2023 8:48 pm

    I come from people who know the value of a drive as well, and I still enjoy it myself. Bless you, and bless your Daddy.

  81. Renee Welton - March 24, 2023 1:06 am

    People don’t seem to just “go for a drive” anymore. It’s a shame…they miss a lot.


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