It's been 45 years and my parents are still pissed at me. It all started with a family rite of passage that goes back several generations. When I was just six weeks old, my parents decided that I was ready. They lovingly secured me in my baby car seat and off we went. Driving for hours, we finally ended up at our destination. Cold and dark, they put me out on the side of the road in a remote location. I think I remember that they smiled at me or something. From then on, I was on my own. Hours later, they arrived back home. Happy and joyous, they were probably planning to hit the bedroom where they would make my baby sister. But it was not to be. They opened the door and got the shock of their lives: I was there! Yes, at just six weeks old and unable to walk or even read a map, I beat them home. Years later, my parents confronted me: they wanted to know exactly how I got back before they did. I mean, they had a car and I was just a baby. What the hell? My answer to them was in the form of a question and it pissed them off even more. I asked, 'Do you believe that you having a car, or object permanence has anything to do with you being able to beat me...in this place? You think that's air you're breathing now'? email: [email protected] web: www.michaeloster.com