For those “Baby Boomers” blessed enough to be a teenager back in the day when gas sold for thirty-cents a gallon, the local drag represents the world’s greatest ride.
In that time “the car” supposedly defined who you were. But the miracles of those good years included more than cheap-gas. We believed in racial equality, tearing down an iron curtain and walking on the moon. The miracles came true, one dream at a time. Miracles to me aren’t big, unbelievable events that rarely happen. Miracles are small events that happen everyday. If you aren’t careful you will miss them.

Taken form Cruisin’ Thu Life ~ Dip Street and Other Miracles by Peggy Purser Freeman