“Happiness is a direction, not a place.” ~Sydney J. Harris
Cars played a big part in my life growing up in Southern California. As a kid, there was a succession of crappy old station wagons that routinely broke down on the highway because we couldn’t afford anything better.
I remember Dad standing helplessly outside in traffic as drivers slowed down to gawk at us, then sped up as they drove on into their lives.
And the rusted green ’42 Chevy pickup truck my grandfather taught me to drive years before it was legal to do so, gears grinding when I …
“Maybe it’s not about the happy ending. Maybe it’s about the story.” ~Unknown
For the longest ever time, I had no idea what my own story was.
Desperately uncomfortable in my skin as a child, I was equal parts pathologically shy with strangers and fearless with my sisters and brother, running wild over the boulder-strewn southern California land during summers.
As a young girl, I was also, more than once, the target for predators and perps.
The nameless elementary school janitor who invited me into his dark and dirty closet one day. The terrifying neighbor who stopped me in a …