I remember back to the days of my childhood. We used to drive out to Grandpa’s farm every weekend to get fresh farm eggs and have Sunday dinner with the family (Dysfunctional family stories will be reserved for the psychiatrist). It was a good 30-45 minute commute depending on traffic (Read: if we ended up following a tractor for a few kilometers), and the drive was filled with farmland and orchards as far as the eye could see. Of course, this didn’t last.

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