The boys and I went on a little adventure today to a place out on Long Island that sells and services DeLoreans. Jen didn't go because she's not into that sort of thing, so it was just us men.
An hour-and-a-half on the Long Island Railroad and a 25-minute walk later, we arrived to find the place closed. So we wandered around and looked through the chain-link fences and peered into the windows of the shop, and spotted 26 DeLoreans in all. They were in various states of disrepair, several obviously living out their final days as parts cars.
Then a 25-minute walk back to the Sayville train station, and another hour-and-a-half train ride back to Manhattan.
Samuel still wants a DeLorean for his 16th birthday, and I'm still determined to figure out how to make that dream come true. I just can't stand to see the universe out of whack.
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