As a kid growing up in the hills of WV I used to dream. During the summer months I would lay with my back on the cool grass and stare at the stars. Watching planes pass over head, I used to wonder where the people in those planes were going. What adventures awaited them. I would make up stories. It was great entertainment. In my real life, I was too frightened to even consider that I could be the person on that plane someday. For me adventures had to be close to home. I grew up on what should have been a one way street. Both literally and figuratively. My next door neighbor was one year older than me and she was just as bat shit crazy as me. We would play Dukes of Hazzard with our big wheels and explore the woods behind our house for hours. Our imaginations would run rampant as we dreamed up other worlds to be in, any worlds than the one we currently resided in. As you made your way onto the main drag of our little neighborhood you would find the house Phil grew up in