The Night Driver

Part 3

4.

As we checked in at the Motel 6, a guilty little part of me inside hoped maybe Gabe would change his mind about going to Penn Can. Maybe he’d be too tired from the drive (fat chance) or too hungry, and would just want to eat dinner instead. Maybe he’d rather watch some NASCAR on ESPN2, which we could probably stream on my laptop. A part of me (shamefully) even toyed with telling him I was too tired, that I needed to turn in early after the day’s driving.

I couldn’t do that, of course. Gabe and I lived for racing. It was our bond. If he wanted to go see his first dirt track race, that’s what we were going to do, my discomfort (fear?) be damned. And besides, it wasn’t like I’d ever told him exactly how my father – his grandfather – died. He knew his granddad had died in a racing accident, and that was it. He didn’t know that’s why I’d never taken him to a dirt track before; because that’s where my dad died. I certainly wasn’t going to penalize him for something he knew nothing about.

So, we checked in, unpacked, and as Gabe’s excitement about going to Penn Can grew, I screwed up my courage and decided to suck it up for my boy.