Green means GO!
Red means stop.
Yellow means
It's how I learned to drive—Ford Festiva, 5-speed. That and stop twice at the next one. Reverse was addicting in that car on dirt roads.
Seatbelts were optional back then and texting while driving wasn't against the law because phones didn't do that yet.
T.e.X.t.n.g
Autocorrect was still in development.
Information was 25 cents, 50 on Sunday's and real life kids played outside. All of the neighborhood streets had kids playing on either side of the road if not in the middle of it.
We would pause 3 Flags Up when a car came.
For every main road there was two dirt roads. Los Angeles County, California, early 90's—dirt roads from Disneyland to Santa Monica.
Back when timing and jets meant you're rebuilding a carburetor.
For every main road now there's 10 alternates and a thousand fakes. Venturing across town's so effortless now, word count counts as the first word.
Less characters, more eye candy. Attention spans are beginning to look a lot like dirt roads.
