I went looking for my father’s truck on the internet yesterday. I believe it was a 1940 Ford stake truck like the one above. I kept staring at the seat, and made a picture of my brother and I sitting here for as long as sixteen hours. I was eleven, and Mark was twelve. Vic had a pro paint ‘Acme Produce’ on the side. We worked most of the summer for Acme, from eight to twelve years of age. I froze everytime father shifted gears. He would touch me most of the time when he did. I pleaded with Mark to let me have the window. It is the only time he did me a favor.

Sometimes there was a lull in the action, and Vic taught me and Mark how to box. There we would be, trying to keep our left shoulder up so our father’s right cross would…