Once Again, About that Thing Called LIfe

I bought a car for my son, like my father before me. I searched, and looked and delved into the abyss known as used cars for the sake of providing my son with his first car. Mine, was a Volkswagen squareback. White, and simple. Not the coolest car in the school parking lot, but filled with the love of my father. I did not realize this at the time. I was just a kid, and kids seem to live in their own worlds. Like my father, I will pass along this mechanical rite. I will give my son a Nissan Sentra with 70,000 miles. And every single mile is an expression of my love. In another century, perhaps it would be a horse? A prize rifle? The knowledge of how to sharpen an axe? For me, it is showing him how to change his own oil and spark plugs, to explain the workings of an internal combustion engine. (You see, the valves open and close in precision with the motion of the piston rising and falling within the cylinder, as the exploding gas of the vaporized fuel expands within a confined space, elicited by the actuation of a spark, triggered by the rotation of an appropriately called rotor....)