When I was little my dad had a white van. It had no seats in the back and it was rusting everywhere. The only real way you knew it was a white van was because my dad called it his white van. The engine was on the inside of the van and was covered with a brown plastic thing like the wheel-well coverings inside a school bus.
I remember one day going into the van and finding a glass buoy that had barnacles all over it. They were still alive so when you touched them they’d open and close. One of them closed on my finger. I don’t have a scar to prove it.
This reminds me of the time Erica and I were down at the harbor with my dad. I’m not sure why Erica and I were there except that this was a long time ago and we for some reason had my grandpa’s “fish mobile.” (It was a brown station wagon that had a fish hood ornament, which is why it was appropriately called the fish mobile) While my dad was off fixing my grandpas beauty the Kilohana III, Erica and I decided to go crab hunting. For some reason we put the crabs we found inside the car in a small wooden box with no lid. We left to find more crabs and came back to find that the crabs were gone. The moral of this story is that if you want to lose your crabs put them in a small wooden box.
