I remember Dad behind the wheel,
elbows out, arm resting on the window,
eyebrows furrowed, eyes darting,
hands twitching in rhythm
with invisible opponents.
He often said on the Los Angeles freeway,
shaking his head and rubbing his eyes,
“Boys, I can't see a damn thing.”
Five lanes of traffic
and two sons scared shitless
at what that meant.
I asked Mom once,
“What is he doing?”
She said, “Arguing with people in his head.”
I laughed then.
I laugh now,
thinking about all there is to argue about.
The greedy, the careless,
the cruel, the brutal people
that want more, only more.
Mostly, though, it was on the way
to Hollywood Park
or Santa Anita.
Dad leaned over the wheel,
muttering, gesturing,
convincing the horses to run faster,
turn on the juice in the homestretch,
telling Shoemaker to use the whip
and Pincay to take the inside lane
on the final turn.
I watched him like a scientist,
like a budding poet,
a child noticing the absurd motions,
the invisible dialogues,
the way his lips moved
like he was negotiating with a stubborn wind,
or providence asleep
at the wheel.
Sometimes, Dad drifted lane to lane,
no turn signal, no checking the rearview mirror,
and I'd feel the invisible friction
he was arguing about in his mind.
A swerve here, a sudden pounding
on the brake there,
and I'd think,
he's winning, he's losing,
he's keeping the chaos at bay
with a twitch of a finger
or an angry glance at the sky.
Later, I thought maybe it was the horses—
maybe he was seeing the race
before it happened,
like a silent jockey,
mapping every stride, every stumble.
Or maybe he was just a man
arguing with life
and the only witnesses were his sons,
trying not to have panic attacks
in the backseat.
Or maybe he watched Inherit the Wind
one too many times.
He always dreamed of being a lawyer.
Debating gave him high blood pressure
and satisfaction.
I can see him now,
that California gray sky,
sitting on the dashboard,
hand out the window,
a conductor of invisible speeches,
making peace with the world,
one argument at a time.
-
Author:
Thomas W Case (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: February 24th, 2026 08:23
- Comment from author about the poem: If you’d like to hear more of my work, I recently posted a long-form poetry reading on my YouTube channel — one or two poems from each of my four books, read in a relaxed, uninterrupted session. You can watch it here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dY2euFFCXLI Thank you for reading and supporting independent poetry. My books are available on Amazon.
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 28
- Users favorite of this poem: sorenbarrett, Friendship, Tristan Robert Lange, Kevin Hulme, gray0328
Offline)
Comments9
Oh hell Thomas I am a miser when it comes to faves but what the hell this one deserves one. Am I just falling in love with your style or what. This one is so nostalgic my dad king of the road pretended the law abiding citizen but was a rebel behind the wheel would race anyone along side then acted as if it were their fault wanting to cut him off. A good read my friend and a fave
Thank you. Good times.
You are most welcome yes they were
I must say, brilliantly written. You captured the words that every father says with every child in the car. The child thinks to himself, 'Who is he talking to?' Brilliant, great job.
Thank you.
Thomas, this is vivid and deeply human. It moves from fear to humor to understanding without losing its center. “Two sons scared shitless / at what that meant” lands hard. The tension feels real and lived. Well done, my friend.🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
Good write T.
It's the location. I could well be your Dad, except my sometimes invisible dialogues are conducted from an old but forgiving armchair and directed at the Seven O'clock News.
I think we can all be grateful that you survived
Lol. thanks my, friend.
Enjoyable Poem. Wonder what your Father would make of the Cars of today? With all the Satellite guidance and Cameras?
Lol. Thanks
There is of course the distinct possibility we might be related .. was your Dad a twin by any chance .............. just asking on behalf of my better half.. Neville 😎👍
Lol. Thanks my friend.
Very good. I had a great day yesterday at Gulfstream Park I hit three 10-1 horses that were in my virtual stable I walked away with hundreds
Fantastic work, my friend. Thank you.
Some memories such as this leave such an impact that the imprint they leave enjoy a never be erased. As kids it must have been quite challenging.
Lovely work
Thanks
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.