David C. Moore
Two years ago, almost to this day, my wife and I visited my god parents for their 50th wedding anniversary in France.
We were privileged to see them, we are close, but it was also a time for my wife of then 6 years to spend time with my parents - with Dad - and explore the south of France.
We had some down-time, we rented a manual transmission Fiat and I’ll tell you sitting in it was one of those nostalgic moments that transports you back in time.
Putting a foot down on that clutch, shaking the gear, reminded me of the first time my Dad taught me to drive on the backroads of Pittsburgh, PA. That same moment where a father needs to take deep breaths as a son stalls, grinds gears, hands on the dashboard. I remember the hardest thing for me was 1st gear… matching the RPMs, releasing clutch just right, seeking a clean shift to second - narrowly escaping stall. That day — maybe 18 years ago -- I remember the moment of open road, dad’s worries of stopping traffic gone, we were moving together, air in our hair, dappled light, oak tree canopies. He turned and said, “Dave - did you see that stop sign back there?” I smiled and said, “but that would have meant 1st gear again dad… “ He cracked a huge smile and looked toward the next turn. It was a memory that burned in, one we cherished.
Dad and I had a hard time connecting through my childhood. Living in Canada, growing up in Pittsburgh, and finally going to boarding school in Long Island, we were fairly far apart in our relationship and it took time for us to understand each-other. But we were gifted a route back.
We had these moments that brought us to understanding each other. Both of us agreeing on ending my gap-year before college. He guiding me to focus on studying CS Lewis at Oxford in the UK. And we’ve had many discussions on what it means to live in faith and work in technology. But the best memories are from some of our near annual trips together. These were times where it was just us. Camping, Hiking or just getting lost.
Yosemite was the last father-son trip.
Our last trip together was not unlike the others before — dad had picked a hotel on bass lake only 40mi from Yosemite park . This turned out to be a windy 1:20 min drive. so we got our frustrations out early on that trip! But we managed our way back the following day— it was faster now. And we hiked to little Yosemite falls. It was a bit too hard, a bit too far. But in the end, he sunk his feet in the river and we just stood there together with the ice cold water rolling over our feet looking over Yosemite valley.
As an adult, these moments brought us closer, we could apologize for not listening, for not pausing to learn or unpack our lives.
I ended up burning the clutch of that Fiat in France. A plume steaming in the air, it was a scene from a movie unfolding before my eyes — blocking traffic, concerned French citizens offering help that we didn’t know how to accept. But, Dad was there. Dropping what he was doing, finding us without complaint, taking a taxi to us deep in the city. He stepped into the car, and shifted without any trouble. “How did you do that?”, “Oh first gear is a little to the left. You see it’s tricky, but if you take it carefully…” the car revved, got to speed, shifted to second, “you’ll begin to move again.” And he gave me that classic smile of his.
It’s been famously said that Christianity is really just one beggar telling another where he found bread. Dad and I discovered that we could find connection by going back to the start – where the bare metal of the relationship meets. God gave us this route to reconnection, an opportunity to live, to give to others, to see a broken life differently— a life that is full of stall-outs that show us God’s grace in our life and for each other.
Yosemite Valley, August 2017