THE FINAL SONG…THE FINAL CONCERT….The Last Time We’ll Ever See Alan Jackson On Stage

Introduction

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Country music icon Alan Jackson is bidding farewell to the stage with his aptly named “Last Call: One More For The Road” tour. Despite courageously battling Charcot-Marie-Tooth disease, this beloved star returned after a short break, with his final performance set for May 17 in Milwaukee.

During his recent show at Orlando’s Kia Center, Jackson’s emotions overwhelmed him while performing his touching hit “Drive.” He shared with fans, “This is a song I wrote quite a few years ago when my daddy passed away. I wanted to write a song for him; I didn’t want to write some old crying-dying typical kind of thing, you know? When I started thinking about growing up, all I ever wanted to do was drive something. He taught me all about that. That’s what this song is about.”

As he reached the final chorus, the legendary performer needed to pause and gather himself. This poignant moment seemed to capture not just his enduring tribute to his father but also the heart-wrenching reality that these are among his final performances before thousands of devoted fans. Like anyone saying goodbye to something they truly love, Jackson appears to be savoring every precious moment while finding it tremendously difficult to say his final farewell.

Video

Lyrics

It’s painted red, the stripe was white
It was eighteen feet, from the bow to stern light
Secondhand, from a dealer in Atlanta
I rode up with daddy, when he went there to get her
Put on a shine, put on a motor
Built out of love, made for the water
Ran her for years, ’til the transom got rotten
A piece of my childhood, will never be forgoten
It was, just an old plywood boat
A ’75 Johnson with electric choke
A young boy two hands on the wheel
I can’t replace the way it made me feel
And I would turn her sharp
And I would make it whine
He’d say, You can’t beat the way an old wood boat rides
Just a little lake across the Alabama line
But I was king of the ocean
When daddy let me
Drive
Just an old half-ton shortbed Ford
My uncle bought new, in ’64
Daddy got it right, ’cause the engine was smoking
A couple of burnt valves, and he had it going
He’d let me drive her when we haul off a load
Down a dirt strip where we’d dump trash off of Thigpen Road
I’d sit up in the seat and stretch my feet out to the pedels
Smiling like a hero that just received his medal
It was just an old hand-me-down Ford
With three-speed on the column and a dent in the door
A young boy, two hands on the wheel
I can’t replace the way it made me feel and
And I would press that clutch
And I would, keep it right
He’d say, “a little slower son; you’re doing just fine”
Just a dirt road with trash on each side
But I was Mario Andretti
When daddy let me
Drive
I’m grown up now
Three daughters of my own
I let them drive my old jeep
Across the pasture at our home
Maybe one day they’ll reach back in their file
And pull out that old memory
And think of me and smile
And say
It was just an old worn out jeep
Rusty old floor boards
Hot on my feet
A young girl, two hands on the wheel
I can’t replace the way it, made me feel
And he’d say turn it left
And steer it right
Straighten up girl now, you’re doing just fine
Just a little valley by the river where we’d ride
But I was high on a mountain
When daddy let me
Drive
Daddy let me drive
Oh he let me, drive
It’s just an old plywood boat
With a ’75 Johnson
With electric choke

 

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