Me and my first guitar- autobiography

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Me and my first guitar. My family had decided to move from snowy Upstate Syracuse New York to Sunny Los Angeles. My dad had always wanted to drive across the country, to sight see before he started his new job in Torrance California, in July 1967, a suburb of Los Angeles. I got my first yellow toy guitar with four plastic strings, for Chanukah and I would sing and strum not minding that they were out of tune. Came the summer and we were off. We had a turqoise Chevy station wagon, my dad and mom up from, the seat behind for my sister Ruth and I, and the back back, the part that lies down for naps. Well, we played Cowboys and Indians there. Ruth would wear the Indian headress, and I would take the guitar and wear my red cowboy hat. I sang, "Hello Nebraska," Bye Bye Omaha, Hello Texas, Bye bye Austin, Hello Arizona, Hello Painted Desert, Bye Bye Petrified Forest," I sang all across the country, strumming, and strumming. By the time we got to California, I somehow lost the guitar . . .