Remembering the Days of My Childhood
When I was a kid, I never knew the difference between many things. A car was a car, and a truck was a truck. It didn’t make any difference to me where it came from, or who had owned it prior to us. My dad was always going out to look at repo cars, and there was a few times that he would take us with him. He wanted to get the jag that had been repossessed, but he knew that mom would frown against it. She didn’t want to be riding around in anything that was too flashy. She was a respectable woman.