by Thom Gabrukiewicz
My dad takes me to work sometimes. He’s a traveling salesman and often takes the double-lane blacktop backroads since he says they’re more honest. I’m 9 and every so often he lets me drive his big silver panel truck with its sliding doors, brushed metal floor and gear shift as long as my own leg. When you’re the driver, you get to control the conversation and the radio. Dad prefers country and likes to dish about mom, while I like talk radio and politics. When it’s my turn to drive, dad likes to slide his door open and make airplane wings out of his cupped hand and outstretched arm.
Thom Gabrukiewicz is a journalist by education and trade, but he's hoping to someday become a writer with a big W. His Writer's Sketchbook can be found here.