My grandfather was a trucker. He told me of driving trucks with solid rubber tires, of hauling logs on roads in Maine, when he’d shift with both hands and steer with his knees, and of doing long-distance runs to Canada with an auto-transport truck (with my mother and grandmother enjoying the ride from the top car!) He always said that the most dangerous conditions weren’t ice or snow, but wet leaves. They’re treacherously slippery and you can’t see the edge of the road.
But, I love it when the leaves come down and narrow my already narrow street. When it rains, the tree trunks darken, providing a background that intensifies the remaining colors. Don’t worry, Pop Pop Charlie. I’m driving slowly and enjoying the ride.