A Father's Day Reflection

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Every father leaves an imprint on their child's life, but some teach us lessons we carry for decades without even realizing it. This Father's Day, I'm sharing a deeply personal story from my StoryWorth collection about the man who shaped not only my love for the open road but my approach to life itself.

My dad wasn't just any trucker—he was a mechanical wizard who could fix anything with his hands and preferred the quiet charm of America's back roads to the efficient monotony of interstates. Though his big rig kept him away for days at a time, the moments we shared became the foundation of who I am today. From teaching me to ride my first Rupp minibike in our backyard to meticulously building a regulation basketball hoop on our roof, he showed me that love often looks like time and attention rather than words.

The summer of 1970 stands frozen in my memory—riding alongside him in a 1967 Kenworth, delivering produce across the Eastern United States. Those highways and byways became classrooms where I learned about this country's breathtaking landscapes and the value of seeing what others miss when they rush from point A to point B. Now, whenever I descend into Cincinnati or drive the Florida Turnpike at dawn, I'm transported back to those precious months when my father's world became mine. His preference for American-made vehicles, his quiet dignity, and his problem-solving mindset continue to influence my choices even now.

If your father is still with you, I encourage you to reach out today. Record his stories, ask the questions you've been meaning to ask, and treasure the time you have. Because someday, like me, you'll find yourself trying to piece together the full picture of the man who helped make you who you are. Join me for this special episode that reminds us all that sometimes the most meaningful journeys aren't about destinations at all.

Episode Transcript

Speaker 1 (00:03):
Welcome to Dan the Road Trip Guy.
I'm your host, dan, and eachweek we'll embark on a new
adventure, discovering memoriesand life lessons of our
incredible guests, from everydaytravelers to thrill seekers and
everyone in between.
This podcast is your front rowseat to inspiring stories of
passion, resilience and thepursuit of happiness, so buckle

(00:23):
up and enjoy the ride.
Well, it's Father's Day 2025,and happy Father's Day to all
you fathers out there.
If you've listened to mypersonal episodes, you know that
in December of 2023, mydaughter gave me a service

(00:48):
called StoryWorthcom.
The idea was I would get aquestion each week 53 of them
over the course of the year andI would answer a question that
she had selected.
Since it's Father's Day, Ithought I would go pull out one
that related to fathers, and thequestion was what was your dad
like when you were a child?
My dad was the owner-operator ofa big rig, which meant he was

(01:09):
on the road most weeks.
He was also incrediblymechanically minded, handling
all of his own truck maintenance.
Saturdays often revolved aroundoil changes, general repairs,
tire replacements.
Despite his demanding schedule,my dad was my hero, so much

(01:29):
that he was my best man at mywedding.
My brother, my only sibling isnine years older than me.
I've heard though I can't saythis is for sure true that my
dad once told my mom you raisedthe first one.
This one is mine.
Now.
My brother is incredibly smartagain one of my heroes super

(01:49):
encouraging and always there forme.
Before I was born, my dad owneda big Harley Davidson.
I need to ask my brother aboutit, since he actually sat on it
and rumor has it he was told toget rid of it before I came
along.
When I was nine, my dad broughthome a Rupp minibike.
Rupp was an American brandwhich suited his preference for

(02:11):
domestically made products.
I don't even remember askingfor a bike.
I think it was his idea.
My mom, however, didn't seemthrilled, but my dad took me to
the backyard and taught me howto ride.
In later years I owned twobikes and occasionally he'd ride

(02:34):
with me.
That was a lot of fun.
He also taught me basic carmaintenance how to change the
oil, rotate tires and justhandle general, regular upkeep.
Even though he was gone often,my dad made time for us.
I played basketball and hemounted a hoop on the roof of
our house, designing the brackethimself to match the roof line
and ensuring it sat exactly 10feet from the ground.

(02:55):
That hoop lasted for years,even after I moved out, until
the roof was replaced.
It was taken down.
Dad was a natural fixer.
I remember one winter thefurnace broke down while he was
on the road.
He told my mom he'd fix it whenhe got home, and sure enough he
did.
He wasn't much of a carpenter,he was more of that

(03:15):
mechanically-minded guy, butthat didn't stop him from
building things For Linda and I.
He built this massive doghousewhen we got our first dog.
For Linda and I he built thismassive dog house when we got
our first dog.
Now, this wasn't just a smallshelter, it was huge.
And speaking of dogs, we hadone growing up.
Dad brought him home from one ofhis trips.
He called him a sidewalk setterBreed, since he was a stray.

(03:38):
When he found him no-transcript, and with most people he did
have a tendency to put you inyour place.
He had a dry sense of humor, hewas quick to lend a hand to
anyone and he adored his ownmother.
She was widowed when he wasjust six months old.
As he got older I saw his lovefor her only deepen.

(03:58):
I never heard my parents argueor fight.
I'm sure they had theirdisagreements but they just kept
them private.
I remember when Dad wouldreturn home, sometimes early in
the mornings, late night I couldhear him and Mom talking in
their bedroom.
Dad was a car guy through andthrough.
He loved Plymouths andChryslers.
He left us with this long listof cars he had owned.

(04:22):
I regret never asking him whichwas his favorite of cars he had
owned.
I regret never asking him whichwas his favorite.
He did restore a 1946 Chevroletpickup truck right on our
carport Not a garage, a carport.
Looking back, I still wonderhow he managed to do that in
such a small space.
He had a 59 Chevy El Caminowhich I wish we still owned.
He swapped the engine and thecolumn shifter for a four on the

(04:44):
floor and that car would fly.
Every time I descend the hillinto Cincinnati or cruise along
the Florida Turnpike in theearly morning, I'm transported
back to the summer of 1970, asummer etched into my memory.
It was the season I spent inthe cab of a 1967 Kenworth,
riding alongside my dad andWillie Babb as they delivered

(05:07):
produce and frozen fish acrossthe eastern US.
That summer was unforgettable,the time when I first discovered
my love for the open road andthe breathtaking beauty of this
country.
If only we take the time totruly see it.
Dad had a habit of taking theback roads.
Maybe it was to avoid thescales in the truck, but I

(05:27):
always believed he appreciatedthe quiet charm of those older
highways.
I'm guessing if he were makinga run to Atlanta today he would
try to find a back road.
You know he might chooseHighway 27, which was right in
front of our house, over thebusy lanes of I-75.
I was blessed with an incrediblefather and I hope my own

(05:48):
children will be able to saythat in 30 years.
So if your father's stillliving, I encourage you to reach
out to him.
Record some stories, enjoy timewith him, because eventually
they leave us.
Happy Father's Day.
Thank you for tuning in to Danthe Road Trip Guy.
I hope you enjoyed our journeytoday and the stories that were
shared.
If you have any thoughts orquestions or stories of your own

(06:10):
, I'd love to hear from you.
Feel free to reach out to meanytime.
Don't forget to share thispodcast with your friends and
family and help us to spread thejoy of road trips and great
conversations.
Until next time, keep driving,keep exploring and keep having
those amazing conversations.
Safe travels and remember youcan find me on the internet at

(06:30):
dantheroadtripguycom.