Many years have passed since the days of Mother and Daddy with eight kids living on a tobacco farm in North Carolina, and me waiting for Santa to come down the chimney. How fast time flies. With Christmas approaching, I glance in the rear-view mirror in wonderment. One day I am whizzing down Wendover in my '74 Camaro, with the eight-track tape player blaring Linda Ronstadt's Simple Dreams, and the next, I am signing up for Medicare.
Where did the time go? Lost somewhere in the motions of living, I guess, but I do have a multitude of memories to draw from, especially when it comes to Christmas, and in at least one of those recollections, the aforementioned copper-toned Camaro played a starring role.
