My father never had a driver’s license during my lifetime. Family photos showing him behind the wheel of a 1950 Buick sedan proved he must have been a driver before I was born. I’d once asked my mother why he gave it up.
Road Warrior by Vicki Mayk
Category: Creative Nonfiction
Blazer by Camille Griep
When we bought the Blazer, it was a kind of joke…Caught between city lives we loved and the country lives we’d been born into, we were torn between being the sort of people who owned a vehicle like that and people who scorned people who owned a vehicle like that.
Driving Alone by Beverly Offen
It’s a gray December afternoon. There’s dirty forgotten snow on the ground and a warning of rain in the air. It’s the Sunday before Christmas, and I’m going to a holiday party.
Silent Night, Firelight by John Redmond
I don’t remember any of the rides we caught that day between the time we got our jaywalking tickets and the time we were standing on I-80 at one of the Lake Tahoe interchanges.
Lining Up to be a Hot Lunch by Hayley LeMay
JAWS. I clutched my stomach as though the word itself had taken a bite out of me. My father planned to take us to see the actual Jaws, the shark that terrorized a nation.
Call of the Canyon by Stacey Balkun
Travel-weary and craving the mystical, we asked the ranger about this quiet area, south of the more popular Grand Canyon. Were there any good hikes nearby?
Song Collectors by Stuart Gelzer
Getting from Tbilisi to the lowland Gurian town of Chokhatauri is easy, just a matter of taking our lives in our sweating hands on the pot-holed two-lane east-west national highway…
The Life of a Houseplant by Matt Berman
… my houseplant has been through a lot. It’s a seven-year-old jade, and it’s never lived in any house longer than five months before having to move again.
The Sky Turns Blue and the Sun Appears by Janna Leyde
“Look at those tits.” I was wearing … a cornflower-blue Ann Taylor dress made of soft, jersey cotton. The dress was hardly form-fitting, and nothing about it invited the usage of tits.
Jazz is the Root by Angie M. Chatman
There are three safe topics that I can talk about with my dad – the law, downhill skiing, and jazz. The first two are of interest solely to him, but the last we share.
