LETTER: Dad's taxi still on call for grown up children
This Express & Star reader on why he still carries out a door-to-door taxi service for his grown up children.
You would think that when your offspring spread their wings and fly the nest, the occasional plea to run them hither and yon in the family car would cease.
Not so. If anything it gets worse, I will explain.
From a very early age our six children have always enjoyed trips out in the family jalopy, shopping with Dad, trips to the park, and visiting their grandparents in distant cities. As they grew older, running them up town for a night out with their friends, and on occasions, collecting them from some fetid watering hole up town.
Then the first wrecks appeared on the drive. A multi-coloured abomination, roadworthy, just, but the pride and joy of son number two, closely followed by another contender for a demolition derby, care of daughter number four.
As the years flew by, a more classy mode of transport appeared on the drive. Today, with all six gone, it’s just her indoors and I. No more worries about collecting half cut offspring, or frantic trips to Accident and Emergency. Dream on.
Four of our six own cars, and even now I get the call to pop around and pick one up, as she has to attend a company function, and likes a drink or three, and the lad, “ I’m coming round, they’re selling loft insulation for only £3, and you said you wanted some for the loft”. We drive back with nine humongous rolls of rock wall insulation jammed in the back.
The phone rings...”The train gets in at 12.37pm can you collect me and the kids from the station please?” And so it goes on, all now very grown up into responsible adults, all running their own households, all working, and four with cars of their own, but when the brown stuff hits the rotating gizmo, it’s reliable old Dad who has to drag his retired bones out into daylight, and somehow rescue, transport, carry, and generally get their lives back on track.
The weekend shopping with daughter number two saves her the taxi fare, and as she lives but minutes away, it’s no bother at all.
It’s a door to door service, something we have both done for at least two years. One car, two households worth of shopping, not a problem, it’s what dads are for.
It’s the unexpected call at silly o’clock in the morning that gets right up my trumpet. I will cuss and moan, but still turn out to help.
Her indoors will see to that, and I don’t really mind. It’s nice to know that they know that all it takes is a phone call, and Pops will appear as if by magic to save the day, and if it saves them a taxi fare, all the better. “Tony, she’s stuck in a dip full of water, and the engine won’t start, she needs help”. Here we go again!