Being the child of over the road truck drivers I never knew any town as home. We moved often as my parents followed work. My most fond memories are of a time we spent in the high desert of California. The winner was mild & the scenery picturesque. We lived in a trailer on a half acre of dirt where I was taught the importance of cutting back the weeds to save the house and out buildings from wild fires. At 13 I learned to drive on that half acre. Learned to follow arbitrary laws as we put up makeshift stop signs & other road sings & detours. One morning, walking my way to catch the bus to school, I snapped a picture of a jack rabbit hiding in the brush. It was well framed between some low cactus & a joshua tree. I'll never forget that scene; the sun just breaking the horizon & me, oblivious to the hazards all around. Tonight, so many years later that I hardly remember the boy who took that picture, I hear the rabbits rustling in the shrubbery in front of my suburban home & I am swept back. I've never had a home town. But that desert memory brings me solace. edit: I can't spell good.