The Quiet Morning Drive

When the road gives you time to think

There’s a kind of silence you only get on early morning drives.
Before the day has opinions.
Before the phone starts buzzing.
Before the world asks you to explain yourself.

The road rolls on for hours.
Fields pass by.
The sky slowly wakes up.
And somewhere between the horizon and the next turn, your thoughts finally catch up with you.

That’s where my mind always goes—to the kids.

Not just mine, but all of them.
The ones whose names never make it into reports.
The ones who are more than data points and budget lines.
The ones who deserve adults who actually stop long enough to think about them.

Candy Apple comes to mind first.
Parents showing up—not because it’s easy, but because it matters.
Advocacy that isn’t loud for attention, but steady with purpose.

Then FCCA.
Community doesn’t just happen. It’s built. Brick by brick. Hour by hour. By people willing to show up when it would be easier not to.

And lately, Crawford Connects.
A new idea, still taking shape.
A reminder that connection isn’t automatic—it has to be intentional.
People helping people, not because they’re told to, but because they see each other.

Somewhere along these miles, I realize I miss The Malliard Report.
The live conversations.
The back-and-forth.
The unscripted moments where truth slips out because people feel heard.

Not everything meaningful needs a microphone.
But some things do need space to breathe.

These drives give me that space.
Time to remember why the work started in the first place.
Why it keeps going—even when it’s tiring.
Why the road is worth staying on.

The sun eventually climbs higher.
The day catches up.
But for a while, it’s just the road, the quiet, and the reminder that progress doesn’t always come from speed.

Sometimes it comes from thinking.
Sometimes it comes from listening.
Sometimes it comes from a long drive where the only thing moving fast is perspective