Let me tell you all a story about my first love. I was fifteen, a silly young teen, and I fell madly in love with the Chevrolet El Camino, specifically the 1969-1970 models. I spent hours on Ebay searching for El Caminos (this was before Craigslist), and eventually found the perfect on in California when we were on a trip visiting family. This car has been with me through what feels like everything. I had it all through high school, hauled hay and tack in the truck bed to horse shows, took it to college. It's quite the friend. For some reason I tend to have closer relationships with non-human things than actual people. Maybe it's just the way these vintage cars have such character. Almost everyone I know has said that Braves seem to just have this jaunty little face, and when I look at the El Camino, I feel like it has some sort of personality as well. Speaking of the Brave, when I first got this car, I had originally envisioned taking a cross country trip pulling a little matching blue trailer! Wouldn't that have been cute too? That was before I fell in love with Winnebagos, obviously. Feel free to not enjoy my cleaning-up-transmission-fluid-and-putting-on-tires outfit. I left home and only brought one change of clothes for three days since I figured I'd just be getting dirty anyway. Oh well! Such is life.
photos of me by my Dad
![This print feels even more relevant today. We all joke about the dumpster fire of [insert year here], but the important message of this image to me is that *we persist* through the horrors. We stand, we fight— maybe for ourselves, maybe for oth](https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/574dddd6d51cd4bc35c1609a/1730935170369-03GPKQ5NF73VAE65RHO6/image-asset.jpeg)
