I remember the first time I saw the Ring Nebula through my Dobsonian and thought "man, that thing is really far away". Then I swung my scope to Cassiopeia's "W" and looked at the ghostly smudge of the Andromeda Galaxy. I tried to fathom the distance and came up lacking. My eyes were better then and I could see things in the mid-6s, but even with full night vision and using averted vision, I couldn't make out any detail; it was just a little wisp of light where the middle was a touch brighter than the edges.
That was the day I fully became an atheist. It made no sense that God would put a smudge of light 2.5 million light years away that was actually a trillion purposeless stars. I had no answer for that. Standing on that runway in the Sierra mountains, enveloped in blackness and looking at Andromeda, I felt a direct link between myself, time and the universe. I didn't need heaven anymore and I never felt the existential dread of death ever again. I understood that I was part of infinity and that was enough.

I've had the same experience when I got my first binoculars at 13.

I was able to see all the way across the street to Kim's bedroom window!

Damn! Could she scream.

Um, did she have big tiddies? If so, can you describe said tiddies? Please be as accurate and lurid as possible.

"Everybody wants to see bazooms!"
-- Surf Punks

Dude. I was 13. She was 12.

The rest is up to you. 😠

That's like 68 in fox years!

Gotta give it to you. I remember thinking she was a fox.