Ideology

We drove home on that Sunday. The summer I was twelve it was hot, windows down instructing me about freedom, liberties, rights, never considered self. A lager fixed firmly between your legs as you drummed the steering wheel in unison to oldies from the radio. It was a 66' Ford pickup, green with the smell of pride that hung from the rear view swinging to the road. I remember it was like a personality that was assigned to you, which is not yours at all.