Twenty years of “triple A”

I still remember the look on Dad's face when I passed my driver's test. Even through my self-involved 17-year-old haze, I could see that he was having a hard time with me growing up. I was his youngest daughter, and I was about to get on the road and get on with my life without him, over a hundred miles away from him.

Then he handed me a red and blue card. With a somber tone and serious face, he told me to never, ever let my AAA membership expire. If I had a car emergency, I would have a way to get help, no matter where I was or what time it was. I probably rolled my eyes, but I took the card and the advice. (I felt positively geriatric carrying an AAA card, but Dad was right. That thing saved my bacon during more than one dead battery and blown-out tire.)

AAA called today to thank me for 20 years of membership. Twenty years! Talk about feeling old…and something else.

Dad passed away almost 18 years ago. But that phone call reminded me: even after all that time of missing him, it turns out he's still taking care of me.

Thanks, Dad.