I don’t know about you, but my mind has been wandering constantly the past few weeks. When my mind wanders, it often travels back into the the cobweb-ridden depths of my brain. Sometimes that’s a good thing, and sometimes not so much. One of my fondest memories, however, was from a biking trip I took with my youth group in sixth grade to Honeyman State Park in Florence, Oregon.

It was 1994, Bill Clinton was president, my loyalties were with Weezer and TLC, and I was a half-awkward / half-cool sixth grader in the Pacific Northwest. Let’s just say there were a lot of stripes and plaids going on, and some very regretful haircuts.

The most memorable part of the trip hands down was “The Game.” It’s one of those childhood memories that just stays with you; that stays with everyone. I can call any of those friends from back then and say, “hey, remember the game?” and they know exactly what I’m talking about. For some reason, it etched a permanent mark on all of us.


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