Sunday Afternoon with Dad

82 degrees with a mild breeze
and you ask me to go for a ride.
I look outside and see why -
the sun is shining bright
and a Z3 sits in the driveway
with the top down.

It's just for the weekend, you say,
so I better take my chances
while I can.
I head out the door
as you slip on your CofC Dad hat
to hide your prettier-than-the-bluest-sky eyes
from the beaming sun.

We jump in the seats
because in a Z3 that is just what you do,
and you slide in the key,
check your mirrors,
adjust this and that,
and tell me to buckle up.
Hurry up! is all I can think
as you prepare to start the engine.

We swoosh around curves
like we're gliding on air,
and you take this road and that,
but all I see is sky above me
and a blur of colors as the worly goes by.

The wind is whipping my hair about
but I could care less,
and I look at you and smile.
You smile back
and I know
that even without a Z3
you are the coolest man I know.