I‘m 16. Just got my braces off. Its the summer of 1993.

I’m driving in my parents’ black, Chevy Spectrum (the extra car)…complete with no a/c (or heat). I swear that car was made of plastic. Cheap, thin plastic…like a Barbie car without the stickers. But one thing it definitely did have was a working tape player. And when you’re 16 with straight teeth, that’s all you need.

I remember driving with my window (manually) rolled (halfway) down (if you rolled it all the way, the door would fly open) along the winding, two lane back roads in Columbia, South Carolina. I can still hear the bagpipe and the strange, haunting, off-beat sound of Peter Gabriel’s Come Talk To Me mixing with the wind that pushed its way heavy past me, through my window and out the other side.

That memory came to my mind today as I drove my kids to chic-fil-a in my Honda Pilot. I rolled my window down for a breeze before the a/c kicked in and one of my girls called out to me, “Mommy, turn the music on…” How does she know that a window down on a summer day means music? I guess I’ve taught her that, without trying, of course.

It makes me wonder what else I’m teaching them without trying…