I'm the little guy riding with my opa, my grandparents owned a small motel in Saratoga back in the 80's, some of my favorite memories live in that place. Opa loved it there, especially the people, I'll never forget the way his eyes would light up when he talked about the characters he'd met at that motel. I was too small at the time, my memories aren't too vivid, and most are completely innocent, but I know for sure that I loved it there too.
I miss my grandparents like hell, but I still love Saratoga, I still feel like my oma and opa are there, maybe taking a walk in the evening, or a drive around the lake. It's an experience that's ingrained in me as a person, all those adolescent years I spent with them, admiring their passion for this new land. They had achieved the real American dream, having immigrated from Holland in the 50's. Opa was a skilled machinist,
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