Mamagotcha's journal

When my daughter was born, we brought her home in what was already a rather old used 1979 volvo. When we gave her her first lesson in how to drive a standard stick shift, it was in the same yellow volvo. The car died shortly thereafter. I think it is sweet, and cute, that she mostly grew up with one car being 'the' car. But I really have no sentimental attachment to the hunk of metal itself. As with all the physical stuff in our lives, it's the memories that count, not the stuff.