my earliest memory was when i was about 18 months old [as confirmed by my parents].
we lived in a second story apartment with a super small porch off the kitchen. it had a solid railing all around with about a 3-4" gap above the floor deck, just enough to see out of, but not fall through.
my mom would shove me out there to escape from me a couple of times a day, and i always had a toy car of some sorts to amuse me while i was there.
one day, i watched as my toy car ran through the crack at the bottom of the railing, and landed on the drive way below, which in those days, consisted of two strips of concrete with grass in the middle.
while i was observing my car on the drive way, who should come home but the landlord, "old man mckinley".
i watched in horror as he drove right over my car, flattening it like a pancake !
i left out a scream, and mom came running to my aid !
all i could do to explain between tears was "car ! car !" and point through the crack. finally, she understood me and gave me another toy car to play with, but the die had been cast.
after that episode, my mom made sure she bought me cereal that had cars inside, and when enough box tops were saved, she sent them off to get whatever "vehicle set" was being offered at the time. i sure wished i had kept a few of those toys !

later in life, my old man and grandpa, plus several uncles, built a house next to grandpa and we moved in to it in 1959. gramps liked to tinker with his 1946 buick and allowed me to help.
i learned quickly that old buick straight eight liked spark plugs ! then, in 1965, my old man bought a new '66 valiant, and the rest is history.
in 1968, i went to work for a body shop, bought my charger through the shop in 1970, started a junkyard with my buddy in 1972, and today, i'm retired and old.