CHAPTER 1 – Pearl Harbor
One Saturday late in my son’s senior year in high school he arrived at the barber shop… the home-hair salon option, performed without any professional pride or even interest, having long since been rejected by mutual agreement when the quality of the haircut was questioned.
Bill’s Barber Shop was three miles from our home and my son arrived on his bike. Bill had been cutting his hair for some years and so was able to recognize the significance of the transportation. In fact Bill even brought it up to my son “Three years ago you arrived here on a bike. Two years ago you drove here in a new Jeep. One year ago you drove here in a 15 year old Chevy Citation. Now you are back on the bike.”
My son just shrugged. There wasn’t enough time in one haircut to explain how it happened. Not even the glossed over, partially correct and mostly lacking in detail, version my son would have delivered.
This is the start of the story of Car Wars. Every parent’s mostly (except for the visible evidence on the car) private war against the inevitable – stupid kids. Sometimes really stupid kids.Continue Reading