After a few more minutes, Mom turned to Dad and said, "You should take him now," she motioned towards the door, "It's dark out enough."
Dad nodded and once again lifted me up. "Hey, champ!" he said, "How would you like to come on a ride with me in the truck?"
I loved going for rides in Dad's truck. My father had a habit of driving fast, and because it was summer, that also meant we could roll the windows down and let the wind blow through the cabin. It almost felt like flying, and I loved it! However, Mom didn't. She would scold him whenever she found out, but he did it anyway. Said it gave him the feeling of freedom--whatever that meant. I didn't really know at that time.
"What about Terry?" I asked.
Usually Terry was the one Dad would invite, or he'd take us both. Dad worked long and hard hours, and these times we could spend with him were special, but he looked at me in his arms, smiled, and said, "Terry will be fine. This time, it's just you and me." I nodded and said, "Okay."
Dad helped me into the truck and fastened me in. Then, he went around and slid into the driver's seat next to me. "Safety first" was his motto--at least until he was out of range of mother.
The sky overhead was cloudy as the truck made its way through the city streets. I had no clue where we were headed, and Dad was paying attention to the road. So, it was rather quiet besides the wind. A few minutes later, Dad rolled up the windows and turned on his favorite radio station, and from the speakers came the alluring melodies of Sinatra. "Nothing beats the classics," Dad always said.