This book has little recommend it beyond epitomizing a memoir gone wrong. The prose is uninspired, the structure haphazard, and the human subjects flat. The title is not apt; "You Drive, and I'll Sit n the Back with the Possum" would have been better. I found the recipes to be gratituitous and annoying page fillers. The author's treatment of her grandparents' lives qnd deaths is the stuff of adolescent first attempts to write something "meaningful." The closest this author comes to successful writing is in evoking a sense of place, but even there she doesn't seem able to see beyond the physical presence of rhododendrons and the waterfall.