Remember pop-up books? I loved them as a kid. You’d be reading along, then you turn the page, and SURPRISE! – a fantastic 3-D illustration of a scene would spring up.
That’s what it felt like to be sitting in the balcony car at the end of the passenger train as we click-clacked our way through South Africa’s Great Karoo, sipping chilled cocktails. But I wasn’t in a children’s storybook; my pop-up was straight out of an Agatha Christie novel. All that was missing was a chalk body outline on the floor and Inspector Hercule Poirot. Continue reading →
Our photo albums are filled with pictures of family members with cars, like this one of my dad.
My sister’s first car was a peach Volaré. It had faux Corinthian leather seats and, when you turned on the a/c, white smoke puffed out of the vents. We referred to this malfunction as the “papal election”.