P.C. Shannon

I was driving around on empty this week. Somehow that got me to thinking about the diesel car that Wesley had in high school, Old Smokey. Man, we had some good times in that car and its successor, Old Yeller. So then I started trying to remember what I did during my summers in high school. I have pretty clear memories of each of summers during college, but not so much high school. I didn’t work. I went to band camp a couple of times (yes, I’m that big of a geek). But the summer between my junior and senior years in particular is a big blank, which leads me to one inescapable conclusion: I did jack shit.

Here’s the thing, though: we’re all, like, grown up now. Wesley is, like, a doctor. But not just any old doctor. No, he’s a fancy MD/PhD kind of doctor. Who’s married. To a lawyer. And owns a house. And has a kid.

What the hell? When did that happen? I guess sometime in the last 14 or so years.

Speaking of 14 years ago and memorable summers in high school, the summer of 92 shall live in infamy. Not only did it have a pretty profound effect on my life for, like, 10 years, it was also the summer I stole my dad’s car. Good times.