My family owned a 1959 Bel Air station wagon. We took that on vacation in 1963 out to see Mt. Rushmore.
The old man wanted a beer. So we stopped at a bar room in Deadwood, South Dakota.
I was looking at the Juke Box. A white guy sitting at the nearest table called an Indian a nigger and it started a fight. They were throwing hands right above me.
I remember going to Chicago about 1974 or so, I'd never seen hookers before.
I was out of High School for a couple of years back then. Later on in the late 70's I was doing newspaper relays for the local agency to the various route boys.
I was using my old Blazer with straight six and three on the tree. That truck was a gas hog. It twas about that time gasoline took a big jump up over $1 a gallon and gas costs were killing me. So I had tot ask them for more cash which they gladly paid.
But one night I was making a drop at tone of the route boy's homes. I would shut off the truck and then count out the papers. I would kill the headlights so it would not run down the battery.
A cop stopped me at the corner and asked what I was doing. I told him, "I'm making newspaper relays for Manor News."
Then he asked his partner, "What's in back of the truck?"
She said, "Newspapers."
And here they were thinking I was doing midnight auto parts. ROTFLOL