I am learning how to become a Sunday driver.
For four months now I have been driving like a bat out of Hell to and from Gainesville. But now I am relearning how to drive. Yes, that's right!
If you pass a dirty, white Acadia and are cussing under your breath . . . or perhaps you may be yelling profanities at the driver of the dirty, white Acadia. . . well, then friends . . . that person you may be cussing might very well be me.
You see. One has to drive 20-30 miles an hour if one expects to see something worth taking a photograph of, and unfortunately for you, that one is me.
Truett likes to take rides every day. It doesn't matter if we've spent hours in Gainesville or if I have driven seventy or eighty miles in the early part of the day; I take Truett for drives around our country roads so he can see pretty things.
"Drive slow," Truett tells me. "I can't see anything with you barreling through the roads."
It has taken me four months to realize that Truett is now in my position as a passenger, and I am in his as the driver.
I have so many pretty photographs that I was allowed to take because Truett drove 20-30 miles so I could see something pretty or unusual; and I owe him the same opportunity to experience the beauty of our communitiy.
I am learning to become a Sunday driver. Now a days, I even pull off the road and take pictures myself now that I'm learning to drive slow.
Comments