The Slice: Barking at the car wash
Steve Webbenhurst was driving behind a pickup that had two dogs tethered in the back.
When the truck turned into a car wash, Webbenhurst couldn’t help but wonder if the driver intended to have the dogs stay put and get cleaned at the same time as the pickup.
Learning to drive: “Just a few days before my 14th birthday (I am 68) my father threw my brother the keys to an old, beat-up car we owned and said, ‘Here’s the keys, John, take your sister to the old airport and teach her how to drive,’” wrote Marsha Lilienkamp of Wallace.
“Needless to say, we did not stay at the old airport but drove all around Kellogg and Wardner for most of the afternoon.”
Now, not quite 14 is pretty young to be learning to drive. But Lilienkamp recalls that there was such a thing as a “daylight license” back then, obtainable at 14.
Of course, if you want to talk about young motorists, you might be interested in knowing that the brother who taught her to drive that day was 11 at the time.
In the matter of what modern kids would complain about if they were sent back in time to take a place in covered wagons headed west: “Everything,” said a lot of Slice readers.
A theory about why some people doing yard work frown: For one thing, not everyone enjoys this activity, said David Townsend. “The only thing I hate more is having people stop by and talk to me about yard work.”
Defining a “long” car trip: Leslie Zilka, calling on a personal memory, said a drive can seem long even in Hawaii if car sickness is part of the picture.
Beyond “The Music Man”: Joe Jovanovich has wondered more than once over the years if WSU football coaches employ the “Think” system.
If it had been you and your spouse instead of Lewis and Clark: “My last name was Elmore, and my husband’s last name is Mohr,” wrote Melissa Mohr. “I think Elmore & Mohr would be an excellent name for an expedition (say it out loud) to explore the furthest reaches of a continent.”
Today’s Slice question: Are you honest when reporting your number of sexual partners?
Write The Slice at P. O. Box 2160, Spokane, WA 99210; call (509) 459-5470; email firstname.lastname@example.org. Louise Geist’s son taught her to drive when she was 43.