We have a Pajero, and it idles along quite nicely, so there's no speed involved, though the kids certainly think they're flyin along like Brocky, judging by the 'WHEW!" noises as they negotiate a particularly tricky corner.
They LOVE driving. Part of it is the thrill and part of it is spending time with Dad, I'm sure. And I hope they keep those memories all their lives.
I didn't have -- WE didn't have -- that kind of relationship with our dad. I love him but he's a grumpy old curmudgeon, and I can't ever remember him doing stuff with us when we were kids. Not one bedtime story, not one game of backyard cricket, not one special trip to the shops.
He did give my sister a driving lesson one time. Her first driving lesson, I believe. To reverse the car up a slope covered in long, wet grass. Unsurprisingly, he leapt from the car white and shaky and no-one ever got a driving lesson again.
Anyway, like I said, I do love my dad; he's actually one of the funniest people I know when he's in a good mood, and we're all so used to the stuff he says and does that we laugh rather than cry now.
But I'm hugely grateful that my husband loves to spend time with our kids, that he thinks of them as the finest thing he's achieved in his life, and that he shows them every day how much he loves them.
I don't think the role of dads is valued enough any more. Good dads = strong families. Not because mums aren't as important, but because a good dad allows mum to be a mum, instead of trying to be everything to everyone.
I've talked about this before -- more than once, I suspect -- because it's something I feel very strongly about; maybe because my own lack of a strong loving dad affected me hugely for most of my life.
This Sunday, we'll be having our Daddy Appreciation Day, complete with presents and cake and all the trimmings. But every day should be a D.A.D., because good dads rock.