“Drive (For Daddy Gene)” is Alan Jackson’s tender tribute to his father, Gene Jackson — a humble man from Georgia who taught him how to drive, how to work, and, most importantly, how to be a man.
Released in 2002, the song tells of vivid memories from Alan’s boyhood: gripping the wheel while sitting on his dad’s lap, steering an old fishing boat, or rumbling along dirt roads in a beat-up Jeep. One of the most heartfelt lines is: “It was just an old half-ton short bed Ford, my uncle bought new in ’64…” Through Jackson’s emotional voice, these everyday snapshots become powerful recollections of love, mentorship, and quiet heroism.
What many fans don’t know is that Alan wrote this song just weeks after his father passed away. Rather than focus on grief, he chose to celebrate his father’s life by honoring the simple joys they shared together — moments that shaped him.
“Drive (For Daddy Gene)” resonates with countless fans who see their own fathers in its verses. It’s more than a song; it’s a timeless ode to fatherhood, memory, and the legacy of small, ordinary moments that define a lifetime.
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
