As far back as I can
remember, I've always had a love for nice things. I don't know if it was the
stories my father told us about his hot rod 55 Chevy he had in high school,
dreaming about my uncle who lived in LA, or maybe the people my parents worked
for that had big beautiful homes that we often visited. My parents worked hard
to make sure my brother and I had nice things and a loving home. If there was
something that my father wanted us to have that was really expensive, he would
figure out a way to get it for a cheap price. My brother and I had nice
motorcycles, cars, clothes and many other things. What people didn’t realize
was there was a story behind the glory. Some of the fancy cars we had, we bought
with a bad motor and my father would spend endless amounts of time showing us
how to repair it. There were countless other times where our parents found a
way to bless us with nice things along with spending time with us.
