When I was a girl, my dad always tried to teach me about cars.  He pointed to what this thing was and he explained how it worked.   And I remember none of what he tried to teach me.  I remember looking at his tan, scarred hands, that grime under the nails that would never come out.  I can close my eyes and smell the mix of diesel fuel and cigarette smoke. That was the smell of my dad after a long honest day's work in the shop.  The literal blue collar with his name stitched across his chest.

Have you ever asked, Is There More to Life? That's How We Started Wandering.The saying is it takes a village to raise a child, and with 8 children between us, we found support in one another for carpools and sleepovers. Our friendships strengthened into family camping trips and celebrating holidays together

We arrived at LAX to start our adventures through the good and the bad...