Happiness Is . . .

… (among other things) hearing the ’68 Beetle that you bought with your entire life’s savings when you were not quite sixteen (which you hold onto through the years even as everyone you know insists that you sell it) fire up for the first time in some eighteen months and ROAR in its humble, unique way.

(We all have a roar. It doesn’t matter if others don’t recognize it as such. It is a roar nevertheless. Own your roar.)