Daddy’s first cousin, Buck, who lived in Nantahala, passed away. Alba Rowland, who was a friend of the family, asked to go with Mama, Daddy, and me to the visitation, which was being held in Andrews.
We loaded up, and Daddy took us on what might be described as a carnival ride to Andrews. Up Wayah, down Wayah. He went as fast as he possibly could, slung us around every curve, slammed on the brakes, and stomped on the gas.
I was riding shotgun. Mama and Alba were in the back. Mama was used to Daddy’s driving. I was in the front, never taking my eyes off the road. That left poor Alba, who suffered mightily and began to experience what is termed motion sickness. She didn’t complain, and we were oblivious.
When we got to Andrews, Alba casually mentioned she was really ready to exhibit the common response to motion sickness. Daddy immediately pulled into the parking lot of a hamburger joint, and Alba got out to walk around as she sipped a coke, trying to reclaim her general state of wellbeing.
While Alba walked, Mama and I launched into Daddy, chastising him for his speed, his sudden stops, and his ability to sling a rider from one side to the other. Consequently, we hurt his feelings.
We went on to the funeral home, visited, and offered condolences to family and friends. Then it was time for the return trip.
Daddy, the one with the hurt feelings, announced he was not, under any circumstances, driving home. I told all of them, up front, I wasn’t driving. Daddy always made me so nervous when he rode with me that I couldn’t be trusted to get us home safely.
That left Mama.
I can’t remember where I sat for the return trip, since I was well known for being carsick, but I think we put Alba up front with Mama. Mama was well aware of the potential puker in the backseat and drove like there was a crystal vase on top of the car.
She eased into curves, kept speed to a minimum, and never slammed on the brakes. The whole experience was eating Daddy alive, but he kept his feelings to himself. Until … in a sharp curve coming down Wayah, when Mama was inching along, he couldn’t stand it anymore and uttered his one and only comment: “Well, Ruth, are you going to completely stop?”
Lawsy, how I miss that man (and those women).