It was never part of my plan. Wait, did I have a plan? Running after my brother’s boots, shoes, dragging pant legs, chasing after him on his bike to the nearest comic book store that was four miles away. Four miles? That’s not a lot, now, but when you’re eight and you’re following someone who was clearly not an adult and not even a teenager with a good track record to a place you’ve never been before, four miles was far. It wasn’t like you could google the directions and gain some sense of control over the situation. You just worked off of good ol’ fashion blind trust. That and a good dose of the fear of missing out on adventure. Trust me, he’s made some bad decisions before so he didn’t have the greatest track record with me. There was this one time we were at the elementary school across the street from us riding our bikes. Back then they used to have the swinging monkey rings on the playground that I always had to jump up to to reach. Even with the short walk up ramp that they provided the struggle was real for the small little asian kid. My brother came up with the great idea of using the ramp as a launching pad for his bike. I remember how, like a pro-athlete, he stared down the ramp with laser focus and started to peddle his bike towards the ramp. Committed to the jump, he peddled his bike at full power and zoomed up the ramp. We watched with bated breath for him to fly, like Michael Jordan or like the little boy on E.T. He didn’t do that. Instead, he ate dirt at maximum speed as he hit the drop off on the other side of the ramp. So four miles seemed even further, now that I think about it, until, of course, you get there and see the X-Men poster hanging on the store window from outside and you see the walls lined with the latest comics still fresh in their shiny plastic sleeves. What’s four miles?