Mickie's Banana Pudding

I was craving the banana pudding my grandma used to make and with one bite I was magically transported to the backseat of Grandpa's Thunderbird.
I could smell the leather seats.
I could see Grandma's large-knuckled-ringed fingers resting on her white pants and Grandpa in his fishing hat.
We were crossing the Cooper River Bridge into Charleston for a picnic of cold fried chicken and tomato sandwiches on the Battery.