I remember riding in the car with my dad from my home in the foothills to an Air Force base in the valley, where we would stock up on groceries once a month. We would play a game to make the monotony of the car ride less apparent, where we competed to see who could spot the most wildlife. He always pointed out coyotes, eagles, rabbits, snakes, and even cranes in the aqueducts; me, I had the attention span of a carrot and was lucky to spot a buzzard.

I remember once we came upon an army of tarantulas in the road. I was completely fascinated and a little freaked out, but my wariness was tempered by the fact I was with my dad -- a hunter, gardener, fisherman, and all-around outdoorsman with great love, respect, and knowledge of the animal world.

Though we stopped for a bit, eventually practicality reigned and dad had to drive through them, crunching a few under the tires of the car.

Strange how the human brain works. Today, this made me miss him.