My Father, the Death-Defying Driver

My Father, the Death-Defying Driver

My mother always accused men who drove fast of being simple-minded. One such man was my father. To be clear, Mom didn’t think Dad was stupid, quite the opposite in fact, but she did believe that whenever he got behind the wheel of a car, all of his God-given talents — his creativity, his charisma, the innate magnetism with which he drew anyone and everyone into his orbit — dropped by the wayside, all so that he could go vroom-vroom.  I adored Da…