Writing in Pictures: Richard Scarry and the art of children's literature
(yalereview.org)
As a boy, I knew I was supposed to like cars and trucks and things that go. But as an unathletic and decidedly unboyish kid, I only got close to liking one car—my mom’s blue Volkswagen Ghia, which she used to ferry me to and from school (and, when she needed some time to herself, to her parents’—my grandparents’—house for an overnight visit).
As a boy, I knew I was supposed to like cars and trucks and things that go. But as an unathletic and decidedly unboyish kid, I only got close to liking one car—my mom’s blue Volkswagen Ghia, which she used to ferry me to and from school (and, when she needed some time to herself, to her parents’—my grandparents’—house for an overnight visit).