Half an hour after a tardy winter sunrise my morning route takes me past a row of parked cars. An assortment of sizes, models and colors they await their owners for the journey to work.
It’s cold this morning. I pull my knit hat more secure over my ears and tug my scarf up and over my chin.
I see it first. The marker lights flash on one of the cars and I hear the “click” of a remote unlock. Then, without warning the engine comes to life.
Remote start startled me out of two heartbeats.
Where is the driver? Taking a last sip of coffee? Zipping up their coat? Giving a farewell hug to spouse?
We’ve come a long way in distance, technology, and time since my father would send one of us out to start the car on a cold morning while he finished his second cup of coffee, donned his coat, and kissed mother on his way to work on a winter morning.