"It's an Adventure"

Excerpt from a story I wrote years ago, "It's an Adventure"....

We were in the car going somewhere. I was ten years old. My daddy was weaving on a curvy back road. As I sluggishly opened my eyes, amazement encased me. I rubbed the crusty gunk stuck in my eyelashes and slowly lifted my head off of the back seat window. Outside the window, colonies of evergreen trees poked out of the mountains while birds danced on the snow-covered ground, leaving footprints. The trees swayed like ballroom dancers, moving in perfect time with their partners, the wind.

“Daddy, where are we?” I asked curious twirling my hair around my finger in high spirits. I looked at the dashboard of our black Ford Explorer. The clock flashed nine in neon green.

“We’re on an adventure!” he said mischievously. “Our first stop is McDonald's.”

            For an eight-year-old, McDonald's is a dream come true. I ordered a sausage biscuit. Daddy squeezed a mustard smiley face into my biscuit and brought Jonathan a bacon egg and cheese biscuit. It didn’t take a lot to please us and my dad knew all the tricks in the book. Over hash browns and ketchup, we kept asking questions about our destination but Daddy wouldn’t budge. Our questions wouldn’t stop until the answer was unwrapped.

Once we were all buckled up and ready to go again, my dad put in a Collin Raye cd that we all loved. The electric guitar began and we all jammed out.

“I think about you

 eight years old

big blue eyes and a heart of gold

when I look at this world

 I think about you

 and I can't help but see

that every woman used to be

somebody's little girl,

I think about you”

            At the time, I was eight years old and had big blue eyes. That song made me feel so special. It was like Collin Raye wrote it about me and my dad. As a child, it was easy to see that my dad loved me. We had conversations and laughed about everything. I still think of my dad when I hear that song no matter where I am.

            As I sang the song, out of nowhere, my brother yelped with excitement from the front seat. I didn’t know what was wrong with him until I looked ahead and saw a tunnel approaching. Then of course, I started bouncing with joy, too.

            “Honk the horn, honk the horn, Daddy!” we yelled. An eighteen-wheeler honked as other cars squeaked in unison. When the tunnel came to an end we were greeted with a sign, Welcome to West Virginia. My mind started racing. What was in West Virginia? Cows, snow, mountains…mountains, I thought.

            “Daddy we’re going snow skiing, aren’t we?” I bounced up and down with excitement, knowing I had solved the puzzle.

            “Might can,” he replied. This was his response for everything. Sometimes it meant yes and sometimes it meant no. But I knew he was just trying to keep playing the game for Jonathan.

            “Yea, snow skiing!” Jonathan clapped siding with his big sister.

            Jonathan and I weren’t experts, but we didn’t need lessons. We could pull off an intermediate slope effortlessly and manage to get down a black diamond without hurting ourselves too badly. We have my dad to thank for that and the many ski trips the three of us shared.

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That snow skiing trip to this day is one of my favorite memories with my Dad and brother. I cannot think of a better time we had together. Daddy woke us up at 4.30 in the morning to put us in the car. He had everything packed and didn't forget a thing. If he did, he must have improvised. Thanks for the trip, Dad! If you and Jon ever come to Japan, lets do it again!

Below is another snippet of "It's an Adventure" This is a memory I made while living with my dad in Nashville, Tennessee, one summer.

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As soon as I moved all my stuff in for the summer, he showed me around Nashville; the bars, good bar-b-que restaurants, and the Opryland Hotel. It was then that I realized my dad was making out okay by himself. He had lots of friends and had fallen in love with Nashville’s charm.  With me here, he would get to show off for me like he used to. This time, instead of skiing backwards, he played guitar and met celebrities.

One night, he took me to a bar called The Stage after six p.m. In Nashville, bars close to minors at 6 p.m. I was under twenty-one and Daddy knew this.

“I need to see some identification,” the bouncer asked me.

I looked up at my dad confused. Why was he putting me in this awkward situation? Just then the band, Stony Run, walked out. Marty, the lead singer, put his arm around my shoulder.

“She’s with the band,” Marty told the bouncer.

I looked at the bouncer, surprised at his response. He covered his eyes with his hands. Daddy smiled at me and we walked in.

Daddy currently plays bass for two up-and-coming bands. He sets up stages for artists such as Journey, Rascal Flatts, Taylor Swift, and the Eagles, and drives tourists around on a Greyline tour bus, announcing the history of Nashville and its musical heritage. 

The lifestyle I encountered with Daddy that summer was unlike anything I have ever experienced. First of all, my dad is a party animal, and I never knew it. He loves the music scene of downtown Nashville. Most nights we easily stayed out until twelve or one listening to music, drinking beer (he made me drink sweet tea), and line dancing.

“Let’s learn this dance, Danielle,” he would say, so eager for Nashville to capture my heart,  as it had his. We made our way to the dance floor at the Wild-horse Saloon, decked out in western wear: boots, hat, and belt buckles. The song playing was Fishin’ In the Dark by the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band. The steel guitar wept its sweet melody as the bass guitar stroked in and the instructor began teaching us the steps. I couldn’t really see from where I was, so I followed my dad’s steps. Leg kick, boot tap, spin…What was Daddy doing? I looked around the dance floor and Daddy was definitely off. Maybe he was making up his own moves, but he was not keeping time well at all. I don’t think it mattered too much that his dancing skills weren’t up to par. We were having fun and spending time together.

Love and miss you Daddy, but I love all the calls, letters, and country weekly packages! And this song is for you...