It was freedom to him, to be in the car, to be behind the wheel. It was probably the only place in the world where he felt in control. Where I grew up, in the back woods of western Pennsylvania, it seemed that everything was far away. Everything, even getting groceries, was far enough away to be an adventure. Sometimes we would just ride to see the changing landscapes, or go to a creek and watch the water flow. It was on one of these rides that my father took me to the place where I was created. In the woods where he and my mother snuck off from a picnic. A rock and a creek on a hot July afternoon. He smiles as he tells me. He probably thought that I was too young that day to remember, that telling me would be a memory that I would not keep.