top of page
Writer's pictureHannah Kuhn

An old story that never gets old, "Chasing Yellow Trucks"

Updated: Jul 6

I wrote this 4 years ago but wanted to share it this week :)

With the business of life, I thought this was the perfect week to share an old piece of writing that I've been wanting to share.

The overall message still rings true today, even as a 26 year old woman, and I hope you find encouragement or can resonate to it's pure and simple joy in some way.

Recently, I've been remembering how fortunate I am to have a family that loves me, even the members who are no longer on earth. And as I remember the sweet memories made, this is a memory I know I'll hold onto the rest of my life.

Thanks for reading (this throwback of a blog story).

"One of my favorite things to do as a kid was when my mom would take my sister and me in the car to get Starbucks and play 'find daddy.' (Yes, she gave us small Mocha Frappuccinos) My dad works for one of the Chicago suburb's public works, and since he's a member of the street department, he was outside 95% of the time.

My mom would call him and ask where he was working so she could drive there and let my sister and I jump out of the car to charge at him and give him a hug. (I don't know how he felt about our mom giving us Frappuccinos, but that's beside the point. Plus, we always gave him some).

Since the Public Works trucks are a bright yellow, they're pretty easy to spot; and to this day (while my sister and I are 22 and 19) when we're driving around his suburb and see a bright yellow truck, we always look to see if it's our dad.

While I've been told I look like my mom, I've always thought I was the most like my dad. We're both introverted, we like sports, we're quiet, we have mechanical minds, and we're deep thinkers (sometimes over thinkers).

From the time I was 7 until I was 15, my dad coached every softball team I ever played on. He spent hours playing catch in front of the house with me, teaching me how to hit, pitch, catch fly balls, run bases, and be a power hitter (despite always being one of the smallest players on the team- "it's a mindset" he'd say). Sure, at times it felt like he was harder on me, but what good father wouldn't be harder on their kid? He wanted me to be the best I could be, and I couldn't ask for anything better.

When I got to high school, I closed the softball chapter and moved onto volleyball. While he didn't 'pepper' with me or coach the high school team, my dad never missed a game or tournament. No matter how far we had to travel, he was always there- watching in his work uniform from places I often questioned how he got up there (and if he was allowed to stand there... he said he could see better from up above).

He taught me how to drive (and avoid every pothole) and he made a way for me to learn and play the violin for 15 years and counting. When I was just learning to play he would sit and listen to me practice in my room while I 'sawed away' making anything but beautiful music.

He would encourage me to keep practicing and taught me that anything good worth having takes practice and work. He was right. And I've implemented that lesson into everything in my life.

He's a man of tradition. He took our family to get a Sunday donut from the bakery every week after church. We would go to Potbelly for sandwiches and shakes every Saturday, and now we go to a magazine store in Chicago that has a cafe because he knows how much my sister and I love coffee. Plus, every summer as a kid, he took our family on vacation to the place in Wisconsin where he went to as a kid and proposed to my mom at.

I think people underestimate my dad. Around most people he's very quiet, but around his family he's really funny, always down for adventures and believe it or not has a soft spot to him.

He taught my sister and I how to navigate Chicago (his city- born and raised), and where all of the cool places are that only 'locals' know about. I loved going to White Sox games with my dad as a young girl. He'd talk me through the strategy of the game and explain plays so I felt like an expert amongst my fellow grammar school classmates.

I'll never forget the night before my first day of high school; my dad put my gym shirt on to make me laugh (and boy did I). I almost fell on the ground laughing while my dad's muscles stretched my gym shirt so much that my name was almost unreadable. But he's also the kind of dad who can give off the 'don't mess with me and my family' vibe, and that always made me feel safe when he was around.

In 2016, he gave me the gift of a college education allowing me to go to Michigan and attend Calvin College. Being a recent graduate, it feels like one of those gifts I'll never be able to repay him for. Every year he would visit me with my mom for family weekend, and I loved being able to walk around and show him the campus and surrounding Grand Rapids.

A couple days ago for old time sake, my mom, sister and I got in the car, went to Starbucks to get a small Mocha Frappuccino, and went looking for dad's yellow truck. No matter how old I get, I don't think I'll ever get tired of chasing those yellow trucks."

--Originally written in 2020

16 views0 comments

Recent Posts

See All

Comments


bottom of page