One day, I was taken from the village by the blue-eyed soldiers. They had set up camp in the nearby woods.

The attachment of unhappiness to happiness, like the head of the snake to its tail, did seem to be the moral of the story, however, when I acquired my dream car.

My Baby-Boom neighborhood of modest dwellings on small lots, a few blocks off Williamson Road, encircled a ten-acre, Southern Gothic amusement park.