On an early morning carpool adventure to a swim meet, one of the kids in my van said something that made me stop and giggle and think about the meaning of life.

He asked the 6am passengers, “Have you ever seen a purple punch buggy?”

No one responded either because they didn’t know what a punch buggy was, they were too tired, they couldn’t confirm or deny the existence of a purple VW car, or they simply hadn’t cared enough before that moment to give it any serious thought.

He said, “I remember where I was when I saw my first, purple, punch buggy. It was the day I ate poutine.”