It so happened that 1993 was a big year for me. Comic book wise, anyway. See that was the year Bane broke Batman’s back. It was the year that Superman died. And in the Marvel universe, Carnage escapes Ravencroft and wrecks carnage on a maximum level. It was also the year that my mother grew tired of the Toyota Corolla. Her eyes were set on a Chevy Cavalier. Mostly because it wasn’t a Toyota Corolla. Now, you may be asking yourselves what my mother’s choice in vehicles has to do with comic books. I’ll explain. In 1993, I was ten years old. Just a few years before, I entered the world of comic book readers because there was simply nothing else for me to…