By on June 13, 2013
My son Harley, raised with a love for everything on wheels.

My son Harley, raised with a love for everything on wheels.

As I paused in the driveway and waited for the garage door to open, I felt an unexpected presence by my side. Unbeknownst to me, my six year old son had slipped the confines of his booster seat in the rearmost row and made his way forward past his sisters with surprising stealth. Now he stood between my wife and I as we prepared to travel the last few feet of our journey.

My first thought was annoyance. Little kids are supposed to remain in their seats with their hands and arms in the vehicle at all times. Yet for some reason here he was walking around inside our van in bold defiance of everything that he had been taught since we first strapped him into a car seat as a squalling, red faced infant. Didn’t he know most car accidents happen close to home?

Caught off guard I opened my mouth to say something harsh, but before I could an old memory clawed its way to the surface. Reaching around behind my son, I swept him onto my lap, “Take us in.” I told him. My wife gave me a surprised look but said nothing as my son gripped the wheel with eager anticipation. While I handled the pedal work and gave the wheel an occasional assisting nudge, my little guy brought us into the garage with amazing skill. He was absolutely delighted with himself, and in that moment my life came full circle.

The clan Kreutzer circa 1972.  I'm the youngest, my father, Harley, is on the right.

The clan Kreutzer circa 1972. I’m the youngest, my father, Harley, is on the right.

Almost 40 years earlier, at around the same age, I too had been between my mother and father in the front seat when I also tested the bounds of good sense in the last few feet of a family journey when I innocently asked if I could drive. My own father, not one to brook any back-talk from any of his 5 kids looked at me hard, but instead of a quick rebuke responded with the unexpected. Setting me in his lap, he let me guide the our car, an Oldsmobile Dynamic 88, into our garage.

It was a moment for the ages. I can still feel the Oldsmobile’s thin plastic wheel in my hands, the back side scalloped to fit my fingers and the vibration from the mighty V8 under the hood, as we slipped smoothly into the garage. The experience changed my life and from that day forward, no matter how far we traveled, those last few feet were always spent on my father’s lap the two of us bonding over the joy of driving.

As car enthusiasts, we’ve all heard talk about how the new generation of kids lack a real interest in our hobby. We’ve all read about hot the cell phone and social networks have usurped the role of the car in the transition to adulthood, too, but I see other reasons for this generation’s attitude towards cars. Belted in the back seat with a DVD player to occupy their time, most little kids view the car as a sort of mobile living room. Prohibited by law from the front seat until they become “tweens,” kids don’t get the opportunity to see what is happening up front and, as a result, they never fantasize about what it must be like to slide over one spot and actually sit behind the wheel. Without the fantasy, the seed doesn’t take root.

My daughter Maiko in the big seat.

My daughter Maiko in the big seat.

Not on my watch. I love everything about cars and, much to my wife’s dismay, I have been programming all three of my children to be motor heads from the day they were born. Due to my efforts, my son Harley wants to be a race car driver and my oldest daughter, Maiko, wants to be a doctor-princess.

I won’t give up on her though. I want all my kids to feel same the joy I get from driving and, as much as I hate little footprints all over my nice leather seats, I let my children play in my car whenever I am cleaning it. I let them crawl behind the wheel, roll down the windows, open the sunroof and crank up the tunes. I let them sit in the big chair with the wheel in their hands and the gearshift under their right hand and I let them imagine what it must be like to be in control. Then I tell them that it isn’t a fantasy, it’s a preview. It’s only a matter of time until the seed takes root.

The circle complete, my son Harley and I pose for a picture with the last Oldsmobile my father, also Harley, ever bought.  A 1984 Cutlass Supreme.

The circle complete, my son Harley and I pose for a picture with the last Oldsmobile my father, also Harley, ever bought. A 1984 Cutlass Supreme.

Thomas Kreutzer currently lives in Buffalo, New York with his wife and three children but has spent most of his adult life overseas. He has lived in Japan for 9 years, Jamaica for 2 and spent almost 5 years as a US Merchant Mariner serving primarily in the Pacific. A long time auto and motorcycle enthusiast he has pursued his hobbies whenever possible. He writes for any car website that will have him and enjoys public speaking. According to his wife, his favorite subject is himself.

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32 Comments on “In Celebration of Fathers: Cars in the Blood...”

  • avatar

    Thanks for that great story. Back in the early 60s when we lived in Shreveport, Louisiana, one night returning from a supermarket run my dad let me sit in his lap while I tried to steer our metallic green 1959 Chevrolet Parkwood station wagon. Talk about a dream coming true! I was going to expertly steer us into a curb, but my dad gently provided some “assistance” to avoid an accident. Will never forget that experience. Oh my gosh! We had no seat belts in that car. How did we ever survive to adulthood. :)

  • avatar

    MY FATHER was color blind. Fortunately, I dodged the genetic bullet. When he was my age and in college, he used to drive, but he kept getting in accidents – probably from poor attention span – though he was always really good at Chess.

    My father has offered me NO direction in the car world at all.

    My UNCLES made up for his shortcomings- all 7 of them are car enthusiasts. They all grew up on nothing but whatever Ford Lincoln Mercury churned out. FORD CAPRI, Crown Victoria, Mercury Cougar, Continentals, Cougars, etc.

    Their father worked for Ford and because of it, they are extremely jaded towards anything NOT made by Ford. Two of my family members started buying into Jaguar only once Ford bought it – but once they sold it to TATA – the other members derided Jaguars as crap.

    One of my uncles was so dedicated he even wrote a book:

    FORD by Carl G. Smith.

    As Ford continued to eliminate V8 engines and offer yawnable, dissapointing econoboxes, they lost my enthusiasm in their product. I instead decided to go with Chrysler because I believed in their products. Consider it rebellion. I’m on my SECOND Chrysler 300 and my 3rd will be a 392 300cSRT8 with an 8speed.

    I work on Capris with one of my uncles. We add turbochargers, superchargers, strokers and crate motors to Capris and Mustangs. We buy parts from Germany, China and Australia and bring them here. All of my uncles have a tuned Capri and the most powerful is a Capri RS . We have a 89 Mustang and a Thunderbird in the pipeline.

    This Uncle, Tom, used to install radios and alarm systems when he was my age. He’s made a very lucrative career with this and he’s been retired for a while. He now customs out of one of his garages. Anytime I need stuff done to my cars, I get free help!

    My uncles hate on Chrysler all the time, but I’m quick to remind them how lame the Taurus and my other Uncle’s new MKS 2013 is and when I challenge them to a drag race they suddenly quiet down. $100 on the table…put up or shut up.

    It’s actually funny that I take after my grandfather more than my father. He has a Dodge Durango and a Chrysler minivan.

    I am currently in the process of turning a 1st generation Jeep SRT8 into a 440 STROKER with a VORTECH V3.

  • avatar

    Nice piece Thomas. Mine are now 35 and 38 – both boys. A couple of years ago, their father’s day gift was a track day for the three of us, me in my 335i, my youngest in his 370Z and the oldest in his S2000. My first ride in an NSX came after my oldest son bought a beautiful ’91 one in 2001. Last weekend, we went to a 1/2 mile dirt oval for a grand father’s day time. To share the love of sport and machinery with your kids is very special indeed!

  • avatar
    Athos Nobile

    Mine is already able to beat me in Mario Kart when he’s in the mood. And I know that in a couple of years I’ll bite the dust when playing against him.

    He loves to steer the wheel of the Saab and tells me it’s HIS car. I have also put him in the front seat of the Holden for a couple of metres.

    The circle closing moment came to me back in Venezuela. We were driving back from visiting my parents (short 500 kms drive) and I remember seeing through the mirror the little toddler sleeping in his chair. For a second I remembered vividly my dad driving his Caprice.

    As parents, we are given the gift of guiding them during a part of their journey and watching them grow… until the next cycle comes for us and they start theirs.

  • avatar

    Wow ~

    Thomas , I hope you know not only how wise your Father was but how lucky you are to have had him .

    I’m much older than you but I still remember seeing that my Father , who sort of liked cars although he never understood anything about them , would go ballistic any time I showed any interest in anything Automotive , worse yet , it was clear from about age 4 that I was destined to be a Journeyman Mechanic and instead of helping this along or , allowing it to run the usual course of Childhood passing interest , he hassled , berated and publically berated me for trying to be normal like your little boy .

    I was more like you and your Pops and my Son is not only a Mechanic but a Professional Driver with simply _mad_ skills behind the wheel .

    Carry on Sir ! .


  • avatar

    //“Take us in.” I told him.

    That is about the sweetest moment I’ve ever seen conveyed in words.

  • avatar

    My father always let us steer up the driveway…and this was with about 3 feet clearance between the houses on either side, and then we had to make the dogleg to the left to go into the left garage bay rather than straight ahead to enter the one on the right. He worked as a service manager for several Ford dealerships (hence “Fordson”) and always had new demonstrators and interesting used cars. One of the dealerships, that he worked for from the time I was 2 years old until I was 12 or 13, was also a Shelby-American dealership. Oh, yeah.

    He has been gone since 1985, but I will think of him this weekend, and the trials we had, and the fun and companionship we shared.

    My son is now 8, gets to steer and sometimes shift for me (both of my cars are 6-speed manuals), and is a Need For Speed expert. He regularly comments on the differences and similarities between real driving and NFS driving. He has about 600 Matchbox and Hot Wheels cars, of course knows them all, and has been a total motorhead from probably 18 months old.

    Last night on the porch we had a fairly in-depth discussion on the differences between LeMans prototypes and GT-class cars, the decision processes involved in deciding when to pit to change from rain tires back to slicks and vice-versa, and a little bench-racing comparo between a stage I Mk6 GTI and stock (upcoming) Mk7.

    Happy Fathers Day, all, and thanks for the companionship here, too.

  • avatar

    “Belted in the back seat with a DVD player to occupy their time, most little kids view the car as a sort of mobile living room”…

    Because of safety concerns that’s the way it’s become. The DVD is the “event” the car is just a conveyance for getting from point a to b. Growing-up, the ride in the car was the “event” didn’t matter to me where we were going, we weren’t strapped in, didn’t even have seatbelts. I wanted to know everything about the car, how it ran (I laugh thinking about how my father struggled to explain an ICE to a four-year-old) and what all the knobs levers and peddles did. When I got older, I would wait for my dad at the corner where he would turn to come home from work. He would pick me up, let me sit on his lap and steer the whole block to our house. I remember what it felt like to control that massive ’59 Impala, all that power, yet so easy to maneuver (power steering was pretty light to the touch then) Car lust was in me for good. I never grow tired of driving and still get a little rush every time I turn the key.

    Thanks for the great memory

    • 0 avatar
      Piston Slap Yo Mama

      THAT’S why today’s gearhead dad should daily-drive a ’59 Impala and not an Expedition with multimedia crap. Just because today’s family cars are soulless appliances doesn’t mean you’re obligated to own one – I call upon the dads of America to dump your SUVs and minivans in favor of Country Squires, Squarebacks, Packards or whatever old iron suits your fancy. I survived a youth spent in microbuses and Delta 88’s and your kids will too.

      • 0 avatar
        Athos Nobile

        You can instill car love to your little one even with a Camry. Think of it as a modern non-flamboyant Impala.

      • 0 avatar

        There’s still plenty of fun to be had with modern cars. If you love cars you can find something to love with even the most soul sucking mommy mobile. Sometimes it may take abuse, but even a Chrysler 200 can be entertaining.

  • avatar

    Automotive enthusiasm is something that is definitely tribal that is passed on from generation to generation. I feel bad for a lot of my comrades who never had anyone to mentor them in this hobby and instead were hooked in by TV and movies like The Fast and the Furious. However, they are now here and carry the torch anyhow. Better them than no one.

    My father was an airplane guy, but wasn’t afraid to dabble in cars a bit. He bought a an LX 5.0 Mustang when I was coming of age, and now has a ’71 Superbee and a Reatta convertible as his extra cars. The ’71 has been an ongoing project he an I have been working on.

    My uncle took me to the drag strip nearly every weekend starting when I was 12 until I eventually bought my own car to race and went on my own. He spurred the hot rod and racing bug in me for sure.

    Now with my own kids, I’m carrying that spark over to them. As they’re a bit too young for the race track, we cruise and go to car shows. And yes, sometimes I let them steer around the property and driveway. I can see it starting and it feels good.

  • avatar

    My dad was not what you would call a car guy. He worked in sales and was given a long line of “salesman” cars-all pretty much forgettable 4 door sedans like LTD’s and Catalina’s. He never let me anywhere close to driving the company cars or the 10 year old beaters that my mom suffered through. He was big on safety, putting seat belts in his cars before they were offered. I do remember he let my mom pick the model and color and she chose a Buick rag top-not sure of the model. Burgundy with a white top.
    He was pushed out of his job and forced to become an independent rep (broker) which changed everything-including his choice of cars. He purchased a 3 year old Cadillac Deville-which had always been his dream car. Over the next 10 years before his retirement he switched to new Caddies and got one every two years or so.
    He was disappointed in many of my choices including 3 VW’s, 2 Toyota’s, a Volvo, and Honda. In his mind if a car did not come from the big three, you were a commie hippie homosexual who hated his own country. He was impressed when he borrowed my Jetta Diesel once, drove it for a week and never put any fuel in it.

  • avatar

    The earliest image of me I have is a curled, faded old Kodak – I’m sitting in what’s now called a “onesie” on my father’s knee – and we both are astride his ’71 Triumph Bonneville.

    He used to let me “shift” in his 340 Duster when I wasn’t much more than 4 years of age.

    There’s a reason this intangible lust for things automotive keeps perpetuating, and it’s not because we like dirty fingernails or shiny metal. We are our father’s sons (and daughters) and if I didn’t get such an early indoctrination, there’s no way I would be so enrapt in cars as I am now.

    Thanks, Dad.

  • avatar

    My father has never owned any exciting cars, but my grandfather owned a 1960 Cadillac Eldorado for a long time, probably from the mid 60s to at least the mid 70s. I’m hoping there’s a picture of it somewhere in the collection of various pictures dating back to the 40s.

  • avatar

    What a fantastic piece. My father was a car guy before parenthood and everything else the steals ones attentions for cars. He had a 68 Camaro that he dragged, built balanced and all that. My first drive with him was in our back yard. I was 14 or so and tall for my age which made the process of operating the clutch fairly easy.

    I had been dreaming about the moment of my first gear change since I was 5 or 6 and here it was… in our back yard on a rain soaked day dad put the Toyota Truck (pre-Tacoma) into 4 wheel low and we practiced stoping and starting and shifting from 1st and 2nd for hours. Thrilled me to no extent. What a fantastic and easy way to learn about friction points, clutch travel, and changing gears. Locked in 4 wheel low max speed of about 10mph.

  • avatar

    First of all: beautiful kids, TK.

    I promised myself that I wouldn’t try to influence our son’s (now 10 years old) interests. He loves basketball, bikes, reading. But by golly, he’s a gar guy.

    Prefers Matchbox over Hot Wheels. Car guys know why.
    Car posters all over his room.
    Pores over the Car & Truck Trader, to the point where he knows when the latest issue is going to hit the stands.
    Draws cars in his free time. Side view, just like I did at his age.
    Knows crazy facts about Dad’s cars.
    Loves Real Racing 3 on the iPad, plus other driving games more suited towards kids.
    Took his camera to the ChumpCar race last weekend.

    I’m a proud papa.

  • avatar

    I don’t recall my father ever letting me steer, but when I was 5 or 6 he caught me “shifting” through the gears in his then-new 1983 Subaru GL station wagon in the garage. Somehow I still remember a look of anger on his face turn into a smile. He said “stay there” and hopped in the passenger seat. He explained the parking brake must remain on at all times when the car was parked or it would roll out the garage and I’d get hurt. He explained I needed to push the clutch in while shifting, right before he saw the blocks of scrap lumber i’d duct-taped to my shoe in order to reach the clutch. He watched me, told me I was doing good. Explained to me the “R” meant reverse and wouldn’t normally be shifted into last doing down the highway, having a good laugh at my expense. He said he’d give lessons every Sunday after church, and we worked up to taping wood blocks to my right food to teach me about the gas pedal in relation to the gear changes. I’m not sure if the car was carbureted or fuel-injected, but I do remember him having a hell of a time getting the car started some Monday mornings!

    The lessons ended within a few months, but he bought me a “club house” 1970 or so Super Beetle a co-worker was selling for 50 bucks about 6 months later. He put it up on railroad ties and I was able to run/shift/steer/drive it in place! Mom wasn’t too happy about it, said the car looked “trashy” up on railroad ties (we lived out in the country, and she made snide jokes to him we were the first northerners to have a car up on blocks). I repeated the lessons my father taught me in the Volkswagen almost daily, even angering him a few times when I’d borrowed the lawnmower gas to keep it running. So, he got me my own 5 gallon gas can and was taught rationing! Filling the can up meant half my weekly allowance would be gone (although I’m fairly sure the cost of the gas exceeded my then $5 weekly allowance). If he looked inside and saw I hadn’t set the parking brake when I wasn’t in the car, he’d remind me about needing to do so despite the car being up on blocks. He had me wash the car when he washed theirs, and for some odd reason had me replace the spark plug wires despite the car running fine (I learned about firing order because I swapped two wires). The car up on blocks taught me more about responsibility at a young age far funner than any other way!

    Eventually I broke something and the clutch wouldn’t pop back up again. The car was sold to another coworker for $100 who needed a new engine for his dune-buggy. Dad gave me $25 of the “profit”. Thank you, dad.

  • avatar

    “I’d sit on his lap in that big old Buick
    And steer as we drove through town
    He’d tousle my hair and say son take a good look around
    This is your hometown”

    -Bruce Springsteen

    And if only doctor-princess was an actual profession.

  • avatar

    Thank you, great story.
    You’ve inspired me to be more patient with my 6 month old daughter when she’s screaming her head off…. also to put the batteries back in the annoying vTech Learn and Discover Driver toy.

  • avatar

    This is a lovely story from a number of points of view. Your kids are beautiful (butyou knew that).

    I was six when I said to my father as we drove along, “I wonder what it would be like to drive a car.” My wish was granted, as he put me right next to him and let me steer. When I was 7 I began operating the gas pedal as well, and at 9 he taught me to shift–in the then 5 year old ’57 Plymouth with a monster clutch! I bucked that thing like an SOB at first, but I quickly got the hang of it. The reason: I’d been watching him drive like a hawk, and I’d been playing with shifting the gears for years, making transmission noises as I “accelerated”.

    Another reason why kids don’t get into cars as much: they can’t get into cars as much. We leave ’em locked. When I was a kid, my parents never locked the cars. It was a normal thing for me–sometimes with friends–to play in the car.

  • avatar

    The first car my wife’s son ever “drove” was my 640HP Supra..up and down our cul-de-sac road a few times.

    And as much as “us” the auto enthusiast like to keep the younger crowd interested in our passion, we’re also the ones to blame (partially) for them losing interest. I remember as a kid car shows (run by people like us..enthusiasts) were free entry for kids under 10 or 12. Not anymore…there’s typically an entry fee. And it’s nearly as much as adult entry fees. So less kids show up to car shows and events..the type of events that stoke the passion.

    So we’re to blame for both encouraging and discouraging the love of cars in kids…

  • avatar

    Before having kids, I would always side with nurture on the “nature vs nurture argument”. Now I’m sure it’s a bit of both, but a lot of it is in our nature.

    My twin boys are little gearheads and I’ll happily spur their development on that. My Dad retired as an airplane mechanic; cars and planes have always been part of our lives. He drives a school bus in retirement, so the boys sometimes call him “Pop-pop Bus”. My younger brother can’t quite remember the details of family vacations, but he can remember the rental car we had! They know every car in the family and all the neighbors.

    I’m pretty sure it’s in my kids nature due to all the molecules of automotive and airplane related fluids in their DNA ;)

  • avatar

    I’m thankful for everything my dad did for me as well. Let’s put it this way; In early elementary school I knew what a ‘426 Hemi’ was and why it was special. He would take me to classic car shows and drag races. He told me about cars like the Plymouth Roadrunner….. meep meep.

    He also let me ‘drive’ too…. but it was an ’85 Lincoln Town Car with extra floaty steering, that took some getting used to and why I prefer steering that requires effort and has feel to this day. He would build me models, the ones I most remember are said ’68 Plymouth Roadrunner 426 Hemi, Ford GT40 race car and a ’91 Explorer Sport (he built that for me because of my infatuation with Jurassic Park and the Explorers featured in that movie- I still want one!) He raised me on classic cars, I still love muscle cars and I’d love a 440 Mopar, but I did stray from the flock so to speak…… I prefer the Japanese performance cars such as the Nissan Skyline GT-R, he never did understand it- he never saw one himself. Regardless, I’m thankful for him guiding my path into being a gearhead. I couldn’t imagine myself not loving cars.

  • avatar

    Maybe it’s petty, but I always look at the number of responses my articles get in comparison to other articles. It always seems they have more but I’ve come to realize over time that, although I get fewer replies, the ones I get are much, much deeper. I really appreciate that.

    Thank you to all of you who have taken the time to share your personal thoughts and stories here today. I’ve enjoyed reading all your comments and there have been so many touching replies. It’s nice to know that a simple little story like this can bring out the best in so many people.

    As Fordson put it so well earlier this morning, thank you all for your companionship. It’s my great pleasure to have you reading and commenting on my stuff – Thom

    • 0 avatar

      Nothing petty about it atall Thomas ~

      You’re not only a good writer , you pay attention to the real things in life and it shows in your articles .

      I know you’ll have a long and happy life with your kids , esp. your Son as Males are hardwired that way .

      me too ~ I’m as close as can be to my Son and it makes me sad that my own Father couldn’t be bothered .

      Nevertheless , you’re doing a great community service here , don’t never stop please .

      BTW : one of my cherished possessions _was_ a N.O.S. Road Runner horn I scored for $3. 00 ~ my Son took it one day in his teens and never used nor returned it ~ maybe I’ll see it again some fine day , who knows ? . it was purple and everything . sigh .

      For those who _REALLY_ must have a Road Runner horn , they’re just standard ” Spartan ” brand 12 volt forklift horns painted purple ~ I occasionally fins them in junkyards or on long abandoned rusted solid forklifts .

      J.C.Whitless in Chicago sold them by the thousands for decades @ $10 each .


  • avatar


    Color me guilty for not always responding to your articles; but I love them very much.

    They hit home in so many ways. For example, I too, built models of all kinds – every kind of plastic model imaginable, an HO model railroad layout, balsa wood planes, paper models. Models got me out of the hospital early once, and an engineering scholarship, which afte a false start resulted in a Mechanical Engineering degree.

    I have two sons. The older one got to sit in my lap, and drive “Bessie”, my 1990 Dodge Spirit, in laps around the church. He was very unhappy when I sold Bessie in 1995 — it had over 200,000 miles on it; been very troublefree, but had a host of small issues that needed be addressed as it slid to hopteeism. Given the chaos after Hurricane Rita; it was the right thing to do.

    The boys also loved the Blue Goose very much; they were one of the reasons I refused to part with it, and had it repaired instead. My youngest son has Downs; so he was not able to steer when he could still sit in my lap; and will probably never be able to drive. I was thinking today that maybe I should take him to a large empty parking lot and let him try his hand at driving it. At least it has a bench seat, so I can sit next to him and put my foot on the brake if I have too. But, he has flown a plane before; he would probably do just fine driving around a parking lot as well.

    Your articles about growing up always warms my heart; but don’t hit the hot buttons that make me feel like I “have” to respond. Please keep sharing; Murlee’s Junkyard Finds got me hooked on this site, and your writings and others keep me here. Take care.

  • avatar

    My dad didn’t let me steer when I was little, but a family friend, who was a “fun” dad, did. He would take me, his 5 younger kids, and usually a neighbor kid or two, and put us into the Ford/Plymouth/Olds station wagon (They didn’t last long, they got rusty quick and were driven 50K a year) and take us to the drive in for whatever kiddie movie was playing. On the way to and back, we would each get a chance to drive. The smallest ones got to steer, sort of, the older ones, got to do everything but brake. When we got tall enough to work the pedals 100% we got to do that too, on a straight road that was 6 lanes wide and over a mile long. Not much skill needed.

    My dad started letting me move cars around when I was about 11, pulling one of our three cars in and out of the garage when needed. I didn’t abuse his trust me until I was 14, and we got a ’69 Hurst Olds as a loaner, and I couldn’t resist, I took it around the block, twice! The neighborhood was a big one, so each loop was about a mile. I’ve been a torque junkie ever since.

  • avatar

    Thomas, the high number response articles are usually controversial or polarizing, the GM vs Ford kind of thing, but there is a huge human interest side of cars that you’ve captured beautifully. Few mechanical things in this world evoke the kind of passion that the automobile does and you helped us to understand a little bit better as to why. There aren’t going to be a hundred comments when everyone likes and agrees with what you’ve said. I’ve read your article three times because I liked what you wrote and it makes me feel good to read it and that doesn’t happen very often… So, stop counting and keep writing

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