The unexpected joy of long car rides

On fathers and sons

Over the summer, my 15-year-old son decided to switch travel soccer teams.

This was GREAT news for him — his new team was very good and that they wanted him was flattering.

For my wife and I, it was more daunting. Because his new club practices four days a week — at two different locations, both of which are 45 minutes (at least) away from where we live.

(Side note: His old club was a 5-minute drive from our house!)

That drive meant that we were going to have to significantly adjust our lives. Sitting down for dinners as a family of 4 were out the window — at least most nights. My wife and I would be like two ships passing in the night more often, as one shuttled my older son to his practice while the other looked after my younger son (and his busy schedule!).

The only way we were even able to consider doing this — him being on this new club and taking this great opportunity — is because we have been blessed with flexible work schedules. I can write — and talk! — from anywhere with an Internet connection. Which means that working from my car while my son is at practice is doable. Maybe not ideal but doable.

But, even with that flexibility, I was worried as summer turned to fall. School was starting. The daily practice schedule — 8 pm to 9:30 pm — was getting real. I wasn’t sure a) if we could even do it logistically and even if we could b) whether it was the right thing for our family.

We are six weeks in. And I am still not ready to answer whether this is the most amazing thing we as a family have ever done. But, I wanted to share a joy I have found in an unlikely place: Driving my son around.

Let me set some expectations first: My son is 15. He likes soccer, his friends and Snapchat. Talking to his dad (or mom) is not SUPER high on his list of priorities.

In fact, I regularly have text exchanges like this with him:

Me: Hey bud. I love you so much and am super proud of the young man you are becoming. I really hope you have a great day at school today and I can’t wait to see you tonight.

Him: Ok.

😂😂😂

That’s a long way of saying he is not the world’s greatest conversationalist. (If you have a 15-year-old boy who is a great conversationalist, congrats! They are as rare as a moment of introspection from Donald Trump.)

So, no, our car rides — again , it’s 45 minutes minimum each way — are not filled with him regaling me about his day at school and everything he has learned.

Usually, if I am being honest, he is either doing his homework or listening — one Airpod in — to music.

And I am, usually, listening to some podcast like “The Rest is History” — my current fave.

Ask any parent who spends a bunch of time in the car with their teenager and they will say something like “Yeah, most of the time they say nothing. But the times they do talk are worth their weight in gold!”

And, yes, a few times —like, literally two or three — my son has, usually after practice, been chatty on the ride home. Of course those are moments I cherish.

But, for me, I have also really come to take pleasure in the silence we sit in most of the time. Him working. Or staring out the window. Or, occasionally, making a joke about the Henry V podcast he is sort of half-listening to as his nerdy dad nods his head and says stuff out loud like “I did not know that!” (Yes, I really do that sometimes.)

Because what I have realized is that my time just being with him is limited. He’s a sophomore right now. In the next 9 months, he will get his driver’s license — he already passed the learner’s permit test! — and start driving himself around. In two years, he will be deciding on where to go to college. In three years, he will be in college — hopefully! — and I will never have another chance to just drive him to a soccer practice.

(Sidebar: I teared up writing that last paragraph. While sitting in a coffee shop in downtown DC. I am a sap. But I love my family so much.)

I just want to spend as much time with him as I can. I don’t care if that time is sitting in silence while I navigate rush hour traffic on 95 South. Because I know that that time will come to an end. I can see the end — even though the end of that time seemed unimaginable when he was little. And with the end in sight, I greedily seize every little moment with him that I can.

Every drive — to and from practice — I will reach across to the passenger seat and just put my hand on his knee and say “I love you.” I want him to know how much I appreciate being with him. How thankful I am for him. And how much I will miss it when he’s grown up.

Even if he’s deep in a math problem or watching some video on YouTube, he always responds to my knee pat by saying “I love you too, Dad.”

I would drive him around all day every day for the rest of my life for just that one moment.