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Writer's pictureTattoo Magazine

(SPRING 2021) Driver | Rebecca Swinney

Updated: Jan 20, 2022


Beep, pull, slam, twist, slide, adjust, click, whir.

That was the order of sounds heard as the truck

started up for what could very well have been the

millionth time, though this time, a new person

dawned the title of driver.


Sixteen is the ripe young age that someone can

first get their license, and in the driver seat sat

someone with the freshly printed receipt that

insured the license had been ordered.


That paper represented freedom, a chance to

escape the house in the midst of a pandemic,

to seek out time alone so desperately needed when

you are locked up with three other people and a

pet for months upon months.


And so for the first time, the young sixteen

year-old pulled out of the driveway with no one

else in tow, a glorious moment indeed. The truck

jolted up the hill, its sensitivity something new to

the driver.


The sun was setting as the drive began. Out on

the roads, music was cranked up and the

destination remained undetermined. Still

cautious, a mirror was checked and double

checked, going 5 under the speed limit at times,

other times 5 over.


However it seemed the destination was one that

was well traveled, the church that laid host to

educating and shaping the drivers young mind in

its much earlier years. The church, “a second

home and family.”


The church, where in its parking lot it held a

bike-a-thon for it’s students year after year; and

had trikes, bikes, pedestrians, and scooters circle

its pavement yard.


Now parked alone in the lot, lay a truck. Within

the truck, is the driver, bewildered that the drive

had gone as smoothly as it had. On speaker is

the mom, listening to the child’s words as the tale

is recounted of the first time alone.


A wonderful tale indeed, one so mundane in

structure, yet it seems one of the happiest days

to break the monotonous cycle of school and

schoolwork. These moments, where not much

happens but emotions lay strong, had the most

impact.


And so, pulling back into the home driveway

once again, our little adventure finds its end.

Though the drive had concluded, the story had

not, anytime now our young driver can find the

roads, for peace of mind, for destination, or for

that freedom we all so dearly desire.


Tell me, how does freedom feel, sixteen year-old

driver?


Blissful truly and beautifully blissful.


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