It is the hour before midnight, on the harsh, gray flat asphalt road along the banks of one of the Great Lakes . A truck races by like a shadow, the moon glowing behind a small house. The car swiftly goes on by, the dim light from the fogy night: --moon penetrating through the fog onto the tuck and house, where a man is standing by the road; -- music is heard coming from the car, Rock & Roll, as this stranger standing by the road, a man in a red plaid shirt, he stands erect, as if he was Paul Bunion; standing in-between the road and the house as a truck races by. Chloe is 1 year old now and I am charged with the divine duty of teaching her how to find her balance and courage. I am able to show her that it's OK to dance and walk at the same time. Dad is 65 and as the oldest daughter, I am also teaching him how to walk. They are not much different really. One has been exposed to the storms of life and withered them like a champion. The other is just starting to learn about the ups and downs of living.

First, roll up all your windows. Make sure that they are closed tightly. Shut all your doors as well. When you have done so, start by cleaning and rinsing your car using a hose. Rule of the thumb is to start from the roof, making your way down to your car's tires. you could try here Technology has solved the time problem. From your home you can find a dealer, a car, fill out the paper work and haggle over the price. All you have to do is punch a few keys on your computer. The dark figure standing, staring by the street, is noticed by the two men in the front seat of the truck, they stare but keep going, --trees blowing to his right and left, the waves of the Great Lake of Superior, makes a humming sound, and everything else, as if you were in the middle of a hurricane, the stranger stands erect yet, never moving. He sees the eyes of the passenger in the Ford-truck, a small figure, a man of about forty, the driver calls him Skip, and he hears that. The taller man at the wheel, his arms are solid, and frozen to the wheel, is called Amery, for some reason you know he knows that. There were three major car manufacturers. Ford, General Motors and Chrysler. Each manufacture had a following. Arguments could erupt over which car was the best. A man's Dodge pickup was a source of pride. Sunday morning the family would dress in their best clothes and get into a Buick for the trip to church. The Cadillac represented power and money while the Ford and Chevrolet represented the working people. People that lived in the country had a buy truck near me. It was a working truck and on Saturday's the kids jumped in the back for a trip to town. That's something that a lot of married couples don't think about. Yes. You and the person you married are legally bound to one another. Your spouse (unless you legally put someone else in charge) will be the one they ask permission from if they ever have to pull the plug on you. Your spouse will get your social security money in the event of your passing. It didn't bother me that my wife had all these legal rights as my wife but it bothered her. She doesn't want me or any one else having legal powers over her. Outdoor Bob, needed a truck to go to work. Linda went with Bob to the local Ford dealer and bought a new Ford pickup. Linda had the credit so the loan was in her name. About six months later, Bob started to stop off on Friday at the local saloon to cash his paycheck. Sure enough, there was a dart board there and a few of the guys started tossing darts for beers. Bob was pretty good and they invited him to be on the local dart team. So happens he ran out of his truck with his gun in hand pointing and said look at that huge partridge. Back then the partridge appeared to be three feet tall as it sat on an old sturdy willow branch. Its head and shoulders were covered with snow and just sat their looking at my uncle. All of a sudden you hear boom and feathers going everywhere like when you bust open one of your mothers feather pillows she got for you for Christmas. Looking you see that glorious partridge in all its splendor laying on the ground. Yea those memories are sacred and worth writing about.