So that was the four of us, best friends forever. Ted and Josh in the back (Ted in the white shirt) and myself in front, trying not to run over Mike. Mike was taking the picture. During that fall of 2017 (and well into winter) he took his camera everywhere with him and snapped photos wherever we went. Thirty years ago, almost to the day. That was the year when the four of us decided we’d use our scooters to get around town after school. Small town kids, we were. Our mates in class all wanted electric hoverboards and some actually got them and hovered to school in the morning. Not us. We went old school with our scooters. And before Christmas we decided to organise ourselves a bicycle tour along the coast in the summer break. Josh’s father volunteered to escort us with his van, following us like a team car in the Tour de France. We had our minds pretty much set on that trip. But it never happened. Not because Josh’s father died before the summer (work accident, fell off a scaffolding if I’m not mistaken) or due to any practical problem. Somehow we forgot about it. And then the next year my family moved to another town and basically that was the end of the four of us. I have no idea what happened to Ted and Josh, apart from the fact Josh’s mother remarried and Josh said his new dad was cooler than the real one. I found that strange. Mike tried to become a photographer after high-school but then ended up pushing drugs. But that fall when we scootered everywhere, that was fun.