Sometimes on a Saturday morning when we were kids, Dad used to take me and Little Brother to collect pine cones for the wood burner. We had to drive right to the end of the sealed street and then turn left onto the gravel road that ran alongside the length of Waikouaiti beach. At the very end, the road crossed a ford with soft sand that we once got the car stuck in. Pine cone nirvana was on the other side. Dad would check seat belts when we got to the beach and then speed down the gravel road, tooting the horn like the General Lee in Dukes of Hazard. And as we felt the surge of gravel underneath the car change to sand, Little Brother and I would shriek and laugh until we could hardly breathe. It’s weird, but I remember being so fucking happy on those rides and sometimes, I think I spend my life trying to get that feeling back.
Every now and then I get lucky :)
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