The Little Blue Acura That Was Our Pride And Joy
The year was 1996. The Olympic Games had just concluded in Atlanta when I headed for the Peach State. I remember it almost like it was yesterday. I had just turned eighteen after our summer camp, making me an official adult. I was moving here to live with my sister and complete my college education. In Smyrna off of Cobb Parkway, she shared a rented apartment with a pair of sisters from Kenya. I would become acquainted with one sister as we spent some time together in the apartment at times when both our sisters were out to work. She would recount tales of her own adventures since she had moved to Atlanta and I would listen, hoping that I too, could start getting familiarized with the city. She used to teach me how to properly say Atlanta the Atlanta way. She would say, "A - lan-na," and I would repeat it to her. She was enrolled at a religious-based curriculum school and I was at an all women's school. She allowed me to read one of her books while on break. It was a book about how to win souls for Christ. I had read a good chunk of the book before the fall term began and I had to go register for college.
