It was an old step van and the passenger seat wasnāt anchored. As my father drove, the seat slid forward then back then forward again. What a ride! Iām
guessing I was about 10 or 11-years-old then based on the fact that Tony was with us in the van. He was a guy my father helped to immigrate from Cuba (in 1959?). We were on the way to
the bay.
