A Father’s Day Tribute

I’m a teenager and I just started driving. I was flying down Rinaldi (if you live in Southern California you most likely know Rinaldi Street) while all the other cars were slowing down, I took advantage of the clear lane and speeded up. That’s when it happened…while I was stopped at a red light, through my open car window, a motorcycle police officer directed me to pull over. Busted! Now I knew why all the other cars were slowing down. Lesson learned.

As I pulled to the side of the road along with two other cars, all I felt was annoyed. The wait seemed like an eternity—I mean, I was driving fast to get somewhere!—and waiting for the officer to come talk to me felt like a lesson in itself. I had to think about my actions.

Hello, young lady.

Hello.

Do you know why I stopped you?

No.

How fast do you think you were driving?

Uhhh, I don’t know.

(Maybe I’ll just get a warning?).

Nope. I got my first traffic ticket, and you guessed it, it was for speeding.

Since I was a minor, only 16, I had to appear in court with a parent.

It was raining on my appointed court day. My dad drove me to the courthouse. He didn’t chastise me or criticize my driving, we just had a fun drive to court. We talked. There was no mention of why my dad had to take a day off work and drive me to court, just driving and talking. My dad always had a new car, and he always loved driving his new cars, so perhaps he was enjoying himself too?

As we pulled up to the courthouse it was still raining. We walked together under the umbrella my dad held as I held his arm. I began to think about that in just a few years I most likely would be living apart from him and that this could be one of our last adventures together. (If you want to call going to court together for my traffic violation an adventure.) To me, it was an adventure to be with Dad just me and him. I was a teenager and there was a good enough amount of “teenage tension” in the house and “school drama” and not a lot of time to hang out with Dad.

Even though the reason for the time with Dad was for an “infraction” I still enjoyed spending time with him.

I ended up having to pay a fine which I think I paid for myself—that would have been part of my dad making me take responsibility for my poor decision to speed. But truthfully I can’t remember paying for it. Which then makes me think he may have, because paying for a ticket at that age would have been a big hit, and I think I would have remembered that, and could probably retrieve said amount even today.

Walking back to the car, in the rain, under the umbrella, holding Dad’s arm was another pleasant memory. One would think that getting a ticket would be a sad and trying event but for me it’s a happy memory. You see, even on the drive home there was no condemnation, no shameful lecture, and no anger…we just talked.

And my dad taught me a lesson. He taught me that even in my mistakes and mishaps he would be there and help me fix it. He taught me that his love wasn’t contingent on me being perfect. He taught me that sometimes the best lesson is to say no words at all.

Happy Father’s Day, Dad—I love you.

For more from Lucille Williams check out her books The Impossible Kid: Parenting a Strong-Willed Child with Love and Grace, and for your marriage, From Me to We, and The Intimacy You Crave. And Turtle Finds His Talent for ages 2-6. We invite you to subscribe to LuSays today for regular encouragement.