Brian is one year older than me (Don). Brian didn’t play a lot of sports. He was into cars and working jobs to make money for his car. Brian loved his “Four Wheelers”. He fixed them up and was always working on them. He even built his own speakers for the back. Big honkers that put out a lot of sound. Brian and I probably fought the most growing up, though we ALL fought and threw shit at each other. I can’t tell you how many scars and broken bones we inflicted on each other. He had a temper, and I still have a small scar on my thumb where he stabbed me with a pencil, and the lead is still in it. Brian and I were very different types of people.
Looking back, I wish I hadn’t been as much of a dick as I was, and we had fought less. But now, as older brothers with families of our own, we are much closer, even if still very different.
As teenagers, we shared a green Chevy Nova before Brian bought his own car. That was often a source of friction as to who would get to drive it. I had a “minor” accident trying to slalom some trees, and a tree decided not to move out of the way. My dad was a tad pissed when I told him a truck must have hit me in the parking lot while I was at a movie. Then he found tree bark in the grill. Oops.