Pilot Car

We are driving up the sequoia-lined road,

beyond Shaver Lake, climbing towards Huntington Lake,

mood-calming acoustic music pouring from the stereo.

I am sending my older daughter to her first job

as a dishwasher and prep-cook

at the Boy Scouts camp in the Sierra Nevada

for these few summer months, before she goes

to college in another state, then on

to a two-year mission, perhaps in another country.

I am driving at the speed limit, maintaining

speed on the straight-ways, relaxing

on the curves, when suddenly I am stopped

by an orange road crew in reflective vests

and hard hats. They motion me to slowly move forward

and follow an orange car with blinking amber roof light

and a sign on the back: PILOT CAR / FOLLOW ME

The pilot car slowly guides me past road crews

removing boulders fallen onto the roadway.

He leads and I follow for a quarter mile, then he pulls over

and waves me on with a cautious hand.

I distractedly return his wave, already facing forward,

and step on the gas to make up for lost time.

My daughter and I get to the trail-head

that leads to the camp just in time.

Other workers are already on an ATV truck,

my daughter the last one to climb aboard.

I lift her duffel bags onto the cargo bed

and turn to say goodbye, but

she has already turned to face the front

as the ATV starts forward
and disappears into the wooded trail.