In my middle teens I asked my father, kind of tongue in cheek but interested in the answer: "what did you want to be when you grew up?", and he answered that he still didn't know what he wanted to be. One morning, post-college, when I came to stay at the farm to help Susantake care of him, he borrowed my truck to drive down to the mechanic and check on the status of his vehicle. It was early and I kept sleeping until the phone rang, the mechanic asking me to bring the fire chief's truck back. I said huh? and looked out the window to see my dad pulling up in tan ford truck. After returning the truck and bringing back my own, I scolded him and barred him from driving my truck again.