While walking home from dropping off my kids at school, something crept up on me that I haven’t seen in over 20 years. Moving about as slow as a three-toed tree sloth with a gentle purr that cloaked the V-8 power beneath the powder blue paneled exterior appeared a mint condition 1978 Chevy Suburban. This behemoth was the grandfather of all modern SUVs, and like most grandfathers from back in the day, the Suburban could kick the crap out of any of his cheeky grandsons. With three full sized bench seats, the Suburban could comfortably SLEEP three intoxicated adults. Just the sight of this classic beach car flooded me with memories of Mexican beaches, tan bodies, and early morning surf sessions. But enough of this mid-life crisis penis envy about a muscle truck. What really mattered sat inside the Suburban. Continue reading
everyday gurus 