Sand Dunes

When I was a kid, my father would drag the whole family out to the desert for just about every holiday, though I think my mother drew the line at Christmas. We would ride sandrails and fourwheelers up and down the sand dunes. Today, out at Reykjanes peninsula, despite the hailstorm, and the black sand, and being in my Mazda, I realized those childhood skills were finding new life.  

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