Chapter 3: School Drop Off

I wondered how to put all this down for people to read. Should I put it in chronological order or just leave it random? I don't know how it will eventually end up, but I am just writing my favorite memories or about the memories that suddenly pop into my head as I go through my day.

Here is one of my absolute favorites! I lived with Daddy after he and Mama were divorced. That in itself was a comedy routine! Living with Daddy was an adventure. One thing he did do everyday was take me to school. No one out there should really consider that too abnormal. I went to a small school where the elementary, middle and high schools were all pretty much together. The strange part of our routine was in my father's profession. He was a lineman for one of the local power companies. He drove a bucket truck to and from work everyday. I never thought anything of it because it was normal for Daddy and I to ride in that bucket truck in the morning and in the afternoon when he picked me up at Granddaddy and Grandmother's house.
Every morning Daddy would drive me to school. Into the gate we would go. Traffic had to stop to let us in because of the size of his bucket truck. Then he would let me off right in front of the cafeteria (you folks who went to Macedonia know what I am talking about). I always tried to get out prior to that point, but it never failed, he managed to stop there every morning. I would kiss Daddy bye, get out, climb down the two stairs and hop onto the grass. Then it was a sprint to building. I tried to beat him everyday! I never beat him! He would wait until I got right in the midst of everyone... Then blow his AIR HORN! WHOMP-WHOMP! Just two short blows everyday to say "LOVE YA". Daddy would then turn the big bucket truck around in the middle of the traffic line and go out the gate he just came in. He was the ONLY one that did that. No one ever seemed to care. It was as if it the traffic should flow that way. My face would be red from embarassment each morning, but it never stopped Daddy. It was his way to get the last "I Love You More Than That" in (that is another story) each morning.
Years after graduating from college a friend told me a story. He and his older brother were talking about people they had gone to school with. When they got to me, his older brother asked if I was the girl in the bucket truck. I was mortified! My friend told me that all of the older high school kids knew me as the girl in the bucket truck. They waited to hear that horn every morning. At the time I was just shocked that anyone ever paid that much attention to a silly girl in a big ole truck. Now all I hope is that I run into someone out there that remembers me that way!
It is funny how time makes you reconsider the important things your parents did for you. Daddy loved me enough to take me to school everyday. He loved me more than anything. I understand now why he blew that horn every morning! Maybe one day when I get out of my car to go to work someone will blow a horn for me, just two short beeps! (I am still holding out for that one.)