This was the life—me and a couple of my closest hometown friends.

All we did was sit around the bed of my friend’s old Ford Ranger and talk about just that—life.

Sometimes we’d grab a McDonald’s sweet tea beforehand, sometimes we had just finished watching a movie at the local Carmike, but every time, we shared the same stories of school, sports, our families, the latest girls we were interested in, faith and what we saw our lives unfolding like.

“Remember when they got caught cheating on that test in math class?”

“Remember that one football practice when we had to run so much?”

“I remember we would always watch that video before away games.”

“Y’all ever think about who you’ll marry?”

It may sound weird that a group of people can sit around for hours doing virtually nothing without wasting a minute of time. If you have a friend group like that, I’m sure you know exactly what I’m talking about.

See, it was never about reminiscing; it was never about sharing laughs; it was never about sharing our thoughts or our struggles or even our highs. It was about what those things do for us. It was about becoming a family.

Those friends will be my brothers for the rest of my life. Sure, we’re spread across the state now going to different colleges, and we will most likely remain that way as we begin our careers. But we were able to form a bond that holds through any perception of space and time.

So this became a sort of ritual for us, as sure a thing as church on Sunday mornings. It was in these times that I believe I learned more about myself than I did either of my friends. I learned how to listen and listen intently; I learned how to give advice; I learned how to laugh freely; I learned how to be open and transparent; I learned how deeply I cherish my family and my friends; and I began forming my own perception of life, not just the views I had been nurtured upon.

Forming my own perception was the biggest hurdle for me back then. I feared being different, sticking out from the crowd, drawing people’s attention. So I fit in; I followed what most others were doing; I was becoming a clone of those around me.

However, it was thanks to those long summer nights with my friends that I saw what becoming my own person was like and I was challenged to become that.

“The person who follows the crowd will usually go no further than the crowd. The person who walks alone is likely to find himself in places no one has ever seen before.” —Albert Einstein

“Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference.” —Robert Frost

So I thank God for a truck bed, summer nights and a couple of brothers.