As a very young child I vaguely remember standing beneath a clothes line tied to a tether designed to keep me from wandering around the south side of the Purdue golf course. I also remember walking down a small hill onto a nearby green to collect the shiny white balls people had left there. On occasion I’ve wondered if one memory is necessarily related to the other. I also vaguely remember sitting in the living room of the same university owned house wondering what was going to happen to me when Dad got home. Just a few hours earlier I’d climbed into the family car, a black, four door 1952 Chrysler*, and somehow managed to release the hand brake. I don’t think the car was badly damaged when it rolled down the driveway and stopped at the foot of a large tree but I can’t say for sure because I don’t recall being the slightest bit interested in examining its back bumper.
* My brother thinks that it was a Dodge.
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