THE.SMELL.OF.MEMORY.

its character oozed from the signature dash. it smelled the same. it sounded the same. it took me back.

during my senior year of high school, i turned 17; a bit of a youngster for my class. i had just discovered a passion [or at least what i thought i wanted to turn into a passion] for snowboarding. one youth group trip to the mountains and i was sold on my calling in life: to shred.

so, being somewhat broke, having not fully invested my time in the workplace seeing as our local institution required my attendance in other arenas [aka 'school'], birthdays and christmas were my main hope in obtaining any equipment that would allow me access to pursue my new 'passion.' i didn't care what the 'rents got me, as long as it was snowboarding-related.

the big day came, 17 years old, and i opened my first box. the shape led me to believe in only two options: a sweater or some shred clothes, maybe a pair of pants, a wind breaker... who knew. seeing as i hadn't asked for any sweaters, the possibilities looked promising. as i peaked thru the tissue wrapping the first gift, the mysterious garment was rather disappointing. in fact, my sister immediately snatched the article from my grasp.

those are mine

sure enough... one pair of used athletic pants belonging to my younger sister, ashley. and, to add insult to injury, i found a note beneath the pants. it read,

no snowboarding pants here

haha i thought. very funny.

yet, the alleged humor did not let up. no gloves here. no goggles here. it seemed as if tradition had been broken, and unbeknown to me, my family & friends were throwing me on an un-birthday party. didn't they know what day it was? the reason we called this celebration? i saw a long, dreary winter ahead.

at about the peak of my frustration, i heard honking... yes... honking. i instantly knew. it was pat, my step-dad. you see, pat has a good sense of humor. however, his timing is usually off. i thought, he was coming home from feeding the horses, and thought it would be funny to pull the attention away from me, the big kahuna, the birthday man himself [yes... 'man' at 17], and bring everyone's focus on him for his grand entrance.

so, first i heard the honk. then the sound of tires squealing around the side of the house towards the party in back. wait a sec... what is pat doing driving that? he doesn't drive a bug...

at first i was confused. a little slow to react, i put the pieces together.

birthday + no snowboarding gear = brand new car for me

that was it; a candy-apple red, 1969, volkswagen beetle. and it was mine.

so, this morning, when eric farewell met me for a breakfast burrito and a surf, and he pulled up in his new surf mobile, it took me back. the burrito was filling, the surf was fun, but most of all, thanks for buying that car.

and thanks again, eric, for letting me slap on the new tilt-shift to shoot your new ride. i know it's a little soft, but it will just have to take practice to dial in all those knobs & dials.

rock.on.