My grandpa is gone now, but he deserves a voice. Even if he were alive, the only way he'd have a voice on the internet is if I wrote it for him, so it doesn't really matter either way. From time to time, I'll try to provide a window into his world through his own words.
Grandpa's driving in Bronx, New York on a road that has two lanes in each direction. Grandpa pulls up right in the middle. My brother and I are in the backseat. I'm maybe 12 years old.
I look at my brother puzzled, he looks back at me astonished.
Me: Uh, Grandpa... I don't think this is a lane.
Grandpa: This is New York! We make our own lanes!!
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