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Our Last Road Trip
I took a 4,000-mile journey down memory lane after Dad died … and it felt like he was riding shotgun.
By Brenda A. Smith
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Editor's note: Fred Smith was one of Christianity's great leaders and mentors for over 50 years before his death last August. Even though he was often hospitalized in his final years, Smith led from his bed—primarily through his website, BreakfastWithFred.com, by which he offered nuggets of wisdom. His final book, Breakfast With Fred (Regal), published just a month after his death, features some of those thoughts, as well as reflections from friends such as Philip Yancey, Zig Ziglar, John Maxwell, and others. Fred's daughter Brenda, who edited the book, wrote this article to remember her remarkable dad.
It was going to be the road trip of a lifetime: three weeks, 4,000 miles, and 16 states. And just me, all alone, in my bright blue PT Cruiser.
Well, not quite alone. In some ways, my dad would be taking this trip down memory lane with me. Dad's own earthly journey had ended just a month before at Medical City Hospital, 92 years—and countless memories—after it had begun.
My trip began with a prayer and three daily goals:
- Stay off the Interstate
- Meet an interesting person or have an interesting experience
- Introduce spiritual ideas into a conversation—what I call "saying a word for Jesus."
Dad had only viewed the PT Cruiser in a brochure from his hospital bed, saying, "I'll see it when I get home." But he went home to heaven, not Parkchester Drive in Dallas. Still, as I hit the road it almost felt as if Dad were riding shotgun, my memories of him traveling with me mile after mile.
I wonder as I wander
By the time I was in first grade, Dad recognized my eagerness to accompany him on his business speaking engagements—and Mom urged me to share these experiences. A little gray suit with black patent leather Mary Janes—hey, this was the '50s—became my "working clothes." Seatbelt laws were decades away, so, snuggled next to Dad in the front seat, I began a lifetime of exploration.
President Eisenhower's dream of an Interstate highway system still hadn't materialized, so Dad and I traveled the great national roads, marked by service station towers visible for miles and motor inns shaped like teepees. He taught me to wonder as we wandered. "See that airplane? We'll drive two days to get where it will be in five hours." How could that be? "Never lose your imagination," he counseled. "Never lose your awe of life."
Fast forward to 2007. Somewhere in Wisconsin, I popped in a Pavarotti cd, thinking of Dad. "You never even consider he'd miss a note, do you? He hits the note directly in the center. The sign of genius is how easy it looks to others. Remember, your unique abilities can be discovered by seeing what you enjoy working on, like Pavarotti enjoys vocalizing."
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