We had a whole ten days off, a fiftieth birthday to celebrate, a new telescope to try out, and a good grasp of Spanish.  A map.  No GPS, smart phone, or travel internet then.
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To play the “Gas Station Game,” you began by taking turns choosing different brands of gas, the way you might pick players on a pickup baseball or touch-football team. He would pick first—that was just the rule—and he would always pick Standard,
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Excerpted from Rocked in Time, a work in progress.
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