During the summer of 1966, I started to lose interest in the things I enjoyed doing at the time, like building skyscrapers and other structures with my girder and panel sets and Stalox mini-brick sets, reading about the universe, swimming up at the Westmount pool, and being a general shit-disturber in school.

I wanted something better. Something more exciting.

I wanted adventure.

Then I learned that a group of my old buddies had taken up smoking. That sounded pretty kewl to me at the time, so I ventured up to the spot where they were known to hang out and started bumming cigarettes from them to prove that I, too, could be super-kewl.