I have been a driver for eight years. Long roads, unexpected detours, and unpredictable weather are all part of the job. But, to me, it’s never seemed like work. It feels freeing to control something so big and powerful: the road, the engine, and me. That car is a part of me; it’s more than just steel and power. Back home, however, people do not view it that way.
When my mother sees me, she asks me the same tiresome question: “You’re still doing that truck thing?” She treats it as if it’s a hobby I’ll give up once I’ve come to terms with who I am. My sister, who teaches in a fully functioning classroom with students and lesson plans, usually gives me this look: part terror, half astonishment. I think you’d be an excellent teacher, she says. “Or simply something a little more… feminine.” It’s as if I overlooked a set of regulations.
How about my father? He does not converse much. He just shrugs and says, “Not very ladylike, is it?” It exhausts you. They have no idea how proud I am of my job. I have a wonderful salary. My life is something I created. However, I’m pretending to be someone I’m not, hoping to uncover a more “acceptable” version of myself in the future.
The worst Thanksgiving was last year. “Are you sure you don’t want a husband to drive you around instead?” my uncle joked. They all chuckled, as if nothing had occurred. I did not. A few weeks later, I was jogging alone over lonely mountain roads at dawn light. The sky remained gentle, with traces of purple and pink, and the radio hummed quietly. Even though I was exhausted, there is a certain calm in isolation. There are no expectations or judgments. Just move.
The silence was disturbed by a sudden, intense, and unrelenting downpour. The road became slick, and visibility decreased. I tightened my grip on the wheel and focused, my heart calm yet alert. Somewhere along the steep climb, I noticed a shivering, drenched person cowering on the side of the road. I halted.
A young woman emerged from the mist. Her name was Mara. When the storm hit, she was trekking and suddenly lost her shelter, service, and direction. I offered her a seat in the taxi and a warm beverage. She accepted gladly. We waited there for hours, the storm hammering on the glass and the motor humming beneath us like a silent promise. We discussed everything and nothing. About families who didn’t really comprehend us. About dreams that were tough to categorize.
Deion stood up, tipped his cap, and departed as the mother and daughter hugged. He’d completed his destiny. He had actually transformed someone’s life today; therefore, the practice field could wait.
The video went viral fairly quickly. Travelers who witnessed the gesture shared it on social media, praising Deion’s leadership and compassion. One Twitter user remarked, “Coach Prime is a real-life hero who inspires others not just on the field.”
Even though Deion Sanders is most known for his football successes, he demonstrated to the world that genuine leadership is about compassion, quick thinking, and stepping up when it was most needed on that day at the airport.