One of my first true loves was Wendy, a run-down all-blue Nissan (Datsun) Stanza. Some of my most memorable stories (from my teenage years) could be traced back to my old "deep blue" and I couldn't help but reminisce while looking at the "Ladies" set of illustrated cars by France Belleville-Van Stone. It's easy to see why: Most of the watercolor drawings reveal the innate character and age of each vehicle, with strokes that feel almost like wrinkles on a person.

I wonder what Wendy looks like now. Is she just scrap at a junk yard? Or is she, even with all her imperfections, someone else's first true love.

Some people take a camera to document their travels. My backpack, however, is filled with everything else but that - a sketchbook, a large pouch filled with micron pens, markers, glue sticks, white out, found pieces of paper, etc. I just came back from a week in Paris, a fantastic week of scootering around, (barely) speaking French, enjoying daily "café crèmes" and "pains au chocolat." Eight days in Paris and this is what I have to show for it.