Take ten years - no, twelve years perhaps - back from today.
We were still little kids, backseat passengers, three of us. Dreaming of the future, a day when we would be old enough to drive, so we'll let our parents be the backseat passengers instead of us.
Twelve years later, and we are still going down the same road each year. Same traffic. My brothers have grown into pleasant gentlemen, I've been close to being at my twenties myself. My two brothers are on the front seat, one driving. Our parents the backseat passenger. Me on the back as well. We're here. We've dreamt about this through our younger years.
Some things don't go as planned. Some other do. This is one of those that do. What a pleasant one, isn't it?