I have always been amazed at the power of a song to evoke emotion or to conjure a memory that has been buried deep in our past. From that first note we are brought back to a moment of joy or sorrow – it brings goose bumps to our skin, raises the hair on our neck and sends shivers down our spine.

As a relatively new dad, I find myself having these moments of nostalgia more frequently and often reflect on my own childhood. The mention of fatherhood in a song never fails to grab my attention – I think about how I was raised and the way I want to raise my son.

One of the greatest dad songs ever written is Alan Jackson’s, Drive. Drive consists of straightforward lyrics of a son paying homage to his father. It explores the artist’s childhood with his dad, fixing up and riding around in an old truck, and his experience spending time on the lake learning to navigate their old wood boat. The song is the honest recollection of the simple but lasting memories that we create with our parents, the substance that sticks with us for the rest of our lives – the memories of those moments when nothing else matters in the world. It’s the experience of pure love.

I often recall these moments with my father – the first time he handed me the controls of his excavator and taught me how to operate the machine while clearing the vacant lot where my uncle’s house was to be built; or, when he showed me how to drive the old lawn tractor at camp and let my brother and I race around the property. I wanted to push what I was doing and jump into the task, but my father encouraged me to take my time and absorb the lessons he was teaching me.

Looking back, these experiences weren’t just mine. They belonged to both of us.

It’s funny how the smallest moments I created with my mom and dad became the most extraordinary and enduring. As I matured and started a family of my own I began to realize that those moments were the means to something greater. They weren’t life defining or didn’t hold depth, but these were the times where I was elevated and made to feel like I could do or be anything. They were the seeds of my blossoming confidence.

These small moments mattered.

We have extraordinary power over our children. This is a truth I have come to realize. It’s inherent that parents focus on the negative effects their decisions can have on their children and we often fail to reflect on how simple it is to make our kids feel loved. At the time, we may not see the complete value in our minor gestures and small lessons, but these intimate moments can mean the world to them. Don’t take this for granted. We have the power to show our children that they are the centre of our lives. We have the power to reinforce that they are loved deeply. We have the power to make our kids feel important. This is the simple concept that Alan Jackson conveys in Drive.

All it takes is that small moment to make the biggest memory.

“Drive (For Daddy Gene)”

It was painted red the stripe was white

It was 18 feet from the bow to stern light

Secondhand from a dealer in Atlanta

I rode up with daddy when he went there to get her

We put on a shine, put on a motor

Built out of love, and made for the water

Ran her for years, til’ the transom got rotten

A piece of my childhood will never be forgotten

It was just an old plywood boat

With a 75 Johnson with electric choke

A young boy two hands on the wheel

I can’t replace the way it made me feel

And I would turn her sharp

And I would make it whine

He’d say, “You can’t beat the way a old wood boat rides”

Just a little lake cross the Alabama line

But I was king of the ocean

When Daddy let me drive

Just an old half ton short bed ford

My Uncle bought new in 64

Daddy got it right cause the engine was smoking

A couple of burnt valves and he had it going

He’d let me drive her when we haul off a load

Down a dirt strip where we’d dump trash off of Thigpen Road

I’d sit up in the seat and stretch my feet out to the pedals

Smiling like a hero who just received his medal

It was just an old hand me down ford

With 3 speed on the column and a dent in the door

A young boy two hands on the wheel

I can’t replace the way it made me feel and

I would press that clutch

And I would keep it right

He would say a little slower son

Your doing just fine

Just a dirt road with trash on each side

But I was Mario Andretti

When Daddy let me drive

I’m grown up now

3 daughters of my own

I let them drive my old jeep

Across the pasture at our home

Maybe one day they’ll reach back in their file

And pull out that old memory

And think of me and smile

And say

It was just an old worn out jeep

Rusty old floor boards

Hot on my feet

A young girl two hands on the wheel

I can’t replace the way it made me feel

And he’d say

Turn it left, and steer it right

Straighten up girl now, you’re doing just fine

Just a little valley by the river where we’d ride

But I was high on a mountain

When Daddy let me drive

Daddy let me drive

Oh he let me drive

It’s just an old plywood boat

With a 75 Johnson

And electric choke