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Originally posted by anti fishstick
interesting how psychologists can psychoanalyze memories :P i wonder what they'd say about me. i have another memory. waiting for my dad to come home from work at 8 everynight bcos he'd bring me paper to draw on. and i'd have to tear those little perforated strips with the holes on the left and right side of the paper.... and i'd get out my markers and crayons and draw all day. and i'd read stories to my stuffed animals pretending i was a teacher and it was story time. i was 4 or 5.
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My god...does it GET any cuter than that?!?
I was probably around the three year mark when I went on an errand with dad to a local junkyard. We had an old 1953 Willey's Jeep pickup. (I wish we still had it...I loved that truck.) Anyway, while dad was conducting business with the proprietor, I was playing with my toy cars on the dash of the truck. I soon grew bored with that, and decided to crawl over to the driver's seat, so that I could pretend to drive, as I had done many times before. This time however, instead of just playing with the steering wheel, I moved the gearshift, like I saw dad do, and ended up knocking the transmission into neutral. Being parked on an incline, the truck, with little me inside of it, started rolling down the road, toward the highway. I can remember looking in the rear view mirror and seeing my dad, and the junkman, running for all they were worth trying to catch me, but it was a steep incline and I was gaining speed and quickly losing them, thinking what fun this was. Had I kept going straight, I would have left the junkyard and entered a busy state highway and would surely have gotten seriously hurt. Being three, I didn't recognize the danger, but for whatever reason I tried to turn and managed to turn the steering wheel hard to the right, to follow the road within the junkyard. Bear in mind, that this was a 1953 truck...no power steering. The truck drifted to a stop and dad caught up to me. He bought me some candy and some new Matchbox cars and told me to never ever tell my mother about that little adventure. To this day (I'm 41 now) I never have.