All Joe really ever wants to do is play with cars, and you’d be surprised (or Not?) how quickly you run out of imaginary car content and scenarios. They can only stop at so many red lights and suffer so many flat tires and fall in so many holes (Morrison’s touch.) At a certain point, after all of the cars have raced, gone down hills, given each other New Year’s presents, gone to the farm to harvest carrots, and put out each other’s fires, I tend to just give them a snack. Want to come over? My mom is going to make us a snack. It’s a break for me, and also the cars. As we all lay there eating pretend grapes off the carpet, I quickly break new story. Years in writer’s rooms have prepared me, or Not. Joe looks at me, a bit curious, a bit bored. He wants a new skill, or life lesson, or protagonist. I have nothing. Should we…drive down….another…hill? OKAY, he says, settling for more of the same, and I ask the tractor if he like, has any big plans for the day? Or…if he wants another snack? Because the story need not be epic, as long as it never, ever ends.