Back in the good old days. I loved playing outside. I would play and play until the sunset. One day my brother grew older and taller; he no longer could fit in one of those little motorized jeeps. But me, still small and young, like a tree that had just been planted. I wanted the Jeep. I didn’t want to get rid of it. I wanted to ride around and feel the hot sun beaming down on my skin. I wanted to smell the moist spring air that surrounded me. Every time my family would take a walk to the mailbox, I would be so excited to use the motorized jeep and drive it around instead of walking. Walking was like a punishment, I hated it. It was my favorite thing to do in the spring and the summer. I loved feeling the wind rush by my face and that feeling of cold air brushing across my face on the hot, sunny spring and summer days. I spent countless days driving around the neighborhood. I always had the feeling that I would crash and break a bone or have many scrapes and bruises that would turn into permanent scars. Or even hit a rock and fly out onto the pavement.
