Life was good back in 1984. (Daily task)

Ahh... here it is, the heart of the great decade known as the Eighties. I was two years old, living in a duplex in the Iowa countryside, and in love with cars or all kindses.

My dad tells me stories about how cats would sneak up on our charcoal grill and steal steaks... stupid things. I was too little to remember much of what happened before I was 5 years old or so, but here's about the only thing I have any semblance of remembering.

All I ever did in my early childhood was marvel at automobiles. I just thought they were the coolest things on the planet... I even drew some kickass cars, my mom saved a few of my drawings.

My parents bought me literally hundreds of Hot Wheels, and I would do everything imaginable. I would race them along the rim of my playpen, I would stick them in my mouth, and my mom got after me for smashing a couple with bricks. I think I got that after watching a monster truck rally my parents took me to.

My dad even let me dink around on his Volkswagen Jetta, although I think I was 5 or 6 before he let me do that. I just loved cars.

Surprisingly, I didn't grow up to be a motorhead (at least I know how to change the oil!) but I just can't stress enough how much cars r0x0red my b0x0rz.

 

How could you smash cars with bricks? We loved you so much!!!
...
They. I meant they.