When I was a tiny tyke we had a party line and a wringer washing machine. I was afraid my mom would get pulled through the wringer as she fed wet clothes into it and emerge paper thin like in the cartoons. We went next door to watch TV on our neighbor's 13" screen B&W TV that sat in a wood cabinet about as big as a Smart Car. We shot our BB guns in the neighborhood and the guy down the street hung the buck he got each November from the apple tree in his front yard to let it cool before butchering it.
Kids rode standing up on the back seat of the car so they could see out the windows better. When we passed semis on the road in my Dad's Plymouth sedan that looked like Christine we'd make a 'honk your horn' gesture to the driver who would oblige with a toot on his air horn.
Cops in the city rode Harley M/C with stick shifts and carried .38 revolvers on their Sam Browne belts. The beat cops called into the station from a box mounted on a light pole every so often.
This was in the 50s and early 60s in the suburbs, not the sticks. A different country and a different time. It might as well be a different planet now.
Kids rode standing up on the back seat of the car so they could see out the windows better. When we passed semis on the road in my Dad's Plymouth sedan that looked like Christine we'd make a 'honk your horn' gesture to the driver who would oblige with a toot on his air horn.
Cops in the city rode Harley M/C with stick shifts and carried .38 revolvers on their Sam Browne belts. The beat cops called into the station from a box mounted on a light pole every so often.
This was in the 50s and early 60s in the suburbs, not the sticks. A different country and a different time. It might as well be a different planet now.

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