Memories are the core of who we are, and as we develop they help mold us. Defining our world and perception. It got me thinking about my earliest memories with cars, the ones you never talk about just the private things you see that stick with you. Dusty winds, burning sun, and frozen winters in a desert called Pasco Washington. The smell of rain touching down on fresh dry dirt is ingrained in my psych, and a certain line of cars stretching down the back of my grandparents farm. I spent the better part of my earliest memories exploring the ruins of old fat fenders, and a square back VW. Freedom to expand my horizons was mine at the ripe age of five. I could spend all day weaving in and out between these derelict behemoths, and admiring every line, every detail. Fighting off rattlesnakes to get a closer look inside. Most of them were missing an engine and transmission. Even if they were locked you could slide under them and go up through the trans tunnel. Then I’d dust off the seat and put my hands on the steering wheel and just get lost driving in my mind for hours. It was my Never Never Land, and even now as a grown man with kids reaching voting age I cuddle that memory in the back of my head. It was where my land of make believe, and reality met my gateway into a world I still find in my heart. I’ll leave this memory here the rest are mine to keep to myself.