Driving with Dad
My first songfic! Alan Jackson's "Drive." The lyrics are in italics.
I know the lyrics don't match up perfectly, but I always think of Supernatural whenever I hear this song.
"Just an old half-ton, short-bed Ford my uncle bought new in '64. Daddy got it right, 'cause the engine was smoking. A couple of burnt valves, and he had it going…"
Ten-year-old Dean Winchester watched his father John toying with the engine in front of him. His father had had that black 1967 Chevy Impala since before he was born. He loved that car so much, and Dean could not wait to grow up and drive it.
"Come on, sweetheart," John muttered, twisting the wrench on the intake valves. "Almost there."
John pulled himself out of the engine and headed to the driver's side, reaching in and turning the key. The engine sputtered a little before roaring to life.
"Alright!" said John.
"Good job, Dad!" Dean called.
John looked over at him, smiling.
"He'd let me drive her when we haul off a load down a dirt strip where we dump trash off of Thickpen Road…"
John frowned at Dean. "Hey, buddy…wanna go for a ride?"
Dean smiled. "Sure." He looked over to where his six-year-old brother Sam was playing on the porch. "Hey, Sammy, let's go for a ride!"
"Okay!" Sam smiled as he jumped up and ran over to them.
John closed the hood and put Sam in the backseat of the car and looked into the passenger seat to see Dean already sitting in it. "Hey, Dean…"
"Yeah?" asked Dean as he looked up at his father.
"You wanna drive?" asked John.
Dean's eyes widened. "Really?"
John nodded, smiling. "Yeah."
"Yeah!" exclaimed Dean, jumping over into the driver's seat.
John slid into the passenger seat, scooting over close to Dean to keep an eye on everything. "Alright, put it in drive."
Dean shifted into drive and eased his foot onto the gas.
"Easy," John warned him.
Dean gently drove the car out of the driveway and onto the road.
"Keep to the right," John told him.
Dean smiled up at John and looked quickly back at the road.
"I'd sit up in the seat, stretch my feet out to the pedals, smiling like a hero who just received his medal. It was just an old hand-me-down Ford with a three-speed on the column and a dent in the door. A young boy, two hands on the wheel. I can't replace the way it made me feel…"
Dean smiled as he gripped the steering wheel with both hands, smiling wide. The Impala flew down that dirt road, Dean loving the feel of the engine's purr.
"I would press that clutch and I would keep it right. He would say, 'A little slower, son. You're doing just fine.' Just a dirt road with trash on each side, but I was Mario Andretti when Daddy let me drive…"
Dean felt the Impala rev as it tore down that road.
"Dean, slow down a little, son," John warned him.
"Yes, sir," said Dean, easing off the gas pedal a little.
"You're doing great, Dean," John told him.
Dean smiled as he looked down at the road in front of him. He loved that his father was letting him drive the Impala. Dean loved this car and could not wait to drive it all the time when he was a hunter just like his father.
"I'm grown up now, three daughters of my own. I let them drive my old Jeep across the pasture at our home…"
Dean and Sam leaned on the hood of the black 1967 Chevy Impala, watching the ambulance leave with the siblings they had just rescued from a wendigo.
"Man, I hate camping," Dean muttered.
"Me, too," Sam told him.
"Sam, you know we're gonna find Dad, right?" said Dean.
"Yeah, I know…" said Sam. "But, in the meantime…" he looked at Dean with a smile, "I'm driving."
Dean smiled to himself as he reached into his pocket and pulled the keys out, tossing them to Sam. Sam caught the keys, and the two of them headed to opposite sides of the Impala. Sam climbed into the driver's seat as Dean sat in the passenger seat. Sam smiled as he turned the car on, revving the engine a couple times with a smile.
Dean smiled as he watched Sam peel out of the lot and onto the road. He enjoyed making his younger brother smile, and a nice long drive was the best way to do it.
"Maybe one day, they'll reach back in their file and pull out that old memory and think of me and smile and say…It was just an old worn-out Jeep with rusty old floorboards hot on my feet. A young girl, two hands on the wheel. I can't replace the way it made me feel. And he'd say, 'Turn it left and steer it right. Straighten up, girl, now. You're doing just fine.' Just a little valley by the river where we ride, but I was high on a mountain when Daddy let me drive…"
Dean smiled as Sam hit the gas, tearing down the road. Dean had been the one to teach Sam how to drive, John so busy with hunts that he couldn't. Sam loved driving the Impala when he was younger. Now, it was more of a relaxation technique to Sam: driving to relieve stress.
"Little to the left, Sammy," Dean told him. "You're almost on the shoulder."
Sam chuckled as he shook his head and corrected the wheel a little.
"Good job, Sammy," said Dean.
Sam rolled his eyes with a smile. "Shut up, jerk."
"Just drive carefully, bitch," Dean told him.
Sam smiled over at Dean as Dean smiled back. This was where they belonged. Sam and Dean knew that they didn't have a real home since their mother died twenty-two years ago. But here in the Impala, they had grown up together. Here, they would always have a home.