<div>Back in 1954, my thumb was numb on Interstate Highway 30 in freezing January weather on the border of Texas and Arkansas states. <br /><div> </div><div>I was on the outskirts of a town called Texarkana, shuddering and standing, wanting to hitch a ride up to Dallas, Texas.</div><div> </div><div>At the vantage point where I stood, there was a shack serving coffee and donuts, with a sign saying ‘Twice As Nice’. <br /></div><div> </div><div>The letters on the sign were obscured by icicles that had formed on it, and I wondered what it meant. <br /><br />It was a long wait in the numbing cold, with fist clenched and thumb stuck out as request for a lift. <br /></div><div> </div><div>Fords, Chevrolets, Buicks, Chryslers, an occasional little Nash, and even Lincoln Continentals and Cadillacs whizzed past, gifting me with cold gusts of wind in their wake.</div><div><br />The vehicles’ whoosh sounds were getting to me. My cheeks and lips were frozen. No one was stopping to pick me up. <br /></div><div> </div><div>A 1949 Chevy Clipper did stop, finally, and a white-haired gent rolled down his window, stuck his head out, and in the cold air, breathed out vapour as he asked: “Where to, fella?”<br /><br /> He said he was not going as far as Dallas, but would take me part way there, to a place called New Hook. I’d need to take it from there. <br /></div><div> </div><div>“Hop in at the back and shut the door gently,” he added. <br /></div><div> </div><div>I muttered my thanks.<br /><br /></div><div>We soon reached New Hook and the old couple in the front seat began an argument. <br /></div><div> </div><div>The wife said, “Ed, I am sorry, I forgot my glasses at the Texarkana coffee-donut shack. We need to go back.” <br /></div><div> </div><div>Through his dentures, the old man sputtered and fumed about how they would have to drive back 45 minutes to fetch them.<br /><br /></div><div>He went on and on about her forgetfulness and negligence. <br /></div><div> </div><div>“You ought to shape up, Betty, that’s what you need to do. Shape up. And how can you forget your eyes back there at the table, eh?” <br /></div><div><br />And, “When will you ever learn, Betty? Eh? When?” <br /></div><div> </div><div>She did not answer even once. “Isn’t it a waste of time driving 45 minutes and driving back 45 minutes?</div><div> </div><div>Gas has gone up to 23 cents a gallon, you know.”<br /><br /></div><div>The gracious grey-haired lady maintained a dignified silence. <br /></div><div><br />They had had a lifetime together and she knew his ways, while a total stranger like me was getting agitated about how he went on and on at her. <br /></div><div> </div><div>We reached the diner where the glasses had been left. <br /></div><div> </div><div>He pulled up and parked, and she quietly opened her car door to go and get the forgotten item.<br /><br /></div><div>As she was moving out of the car, he suddenly looked a little contrite, and with a complete change in his tone of voice, said, “Er... wait, Betty. Er... there is a bit more.”<br /></div><div><br />Then he said, “Betty, while you are getting your glasses, also pick up my credit card and diary. I’d forgotten them on the same table.”<br /><br /></div><div>“Yes, dear, diary and credit card coming up,” she said with a smirk.</div><div><br /></div></div>
<div>Back in 1954, my thumb was numb on Interstate Highway 30 in freezing January weather on the border of Texas and Arkansas states. <br /><div> </div><div>I was on the outskirts of a town called Texarkana, shuddering and standing, wanting to hitch a ride up to Dallas, Texas.</div><div> </div><div>At the vantage point where I stood, there was a shack serving coffee and donuts, with a sign saying ‘Twice As Nice’. <br /></div><div> </div><div>The letters on the sign were obscured by icicles that had formed on it, and I wondered what it meant. <br /><br />It was a long wait in the numbing cold, with fist clenched and thumb stuck out as request for a lift. <br /></div><div> </div><div>Fords, Chevrolets, Buicks, Chryslers, an occasional little Nash, and even Lincoln Continentals and Cadillacs whizzed past, gifting me with cold gusts of wind in their wake.</div><div><br />The vehicles’ whoosh sounds were getting to me. My cheeks and lips were frozen. No one was stopping to pick me up. <br /></div><div> </div><div>A 1949 Chevy Clipper did stop, finally, and a white-haired gent rolled down his window, stuck his head out, and in the cold air, breathed out vapour as he asked: “Where to, fella?”<br /><br /> He said he was not going as far as Dallas, but would take me part way there, to a place called New Hook. I’d need to take it from there. <br /></div><div> </div><div>“Hop in at the back and shut the door gently,” he added. <br /></div><div> </div><div>I muttered my thanks.<br /><br /></div><div>We soon reached New Hook and the old couple in the front seat began an argument. <br /></div><div> </div><div>The wife said, “Ed, I am sorry, I forgot my glasses at the Texarkana coffee-donut shack. We need to go back.” <br /></div><div> </div><div>Through his dentures, the old man sputtered and fumed about how they would have to drive back 45 minutes to fetch them.<br /><br /></div><div>He went on and on about her forgetfulness and negligence. <br /></div><div> </div><div>“You ought to shape up, Betty, that’s what you need to do. Shape up. And how can you forget your eyes back there at the table, eh?” <br /></div><div><br />And, “When will you ever learn, Betty? Eh? When?” <br /></div><div> </div><div>She did not answer even once. “Isn’t it a waste of time driving 45 minutes and driving back 45 minutes?</div><div> </div><div>Gas has gone up to 23 cents a gallon, you know.”<br /><br /></div><div>The gracious grey-haired lady maintained a dignified silence. <br /></div><div><br />They had had a lifetime together and she knew his ways, while a total stranger like me was getting agitated about how he went on and on at her. <br /></div><div> </div><div>We reached the diner where the glasses had been left. <br /></div><div> </div><div>He pulled up and parked, and she quietly opened her car door to go and get the forgotten item.<br /><br /></div><div>As she was moving out of the car, he suddenly looked a little contrite, and with a complete change in his tone of voice, said, “Er... wait, Betty. Er... there is a bit more.”<br /></div><div><br />Then he said, “Betty, while you are getting your glasses, also pick up my credit card and diary. I’d forgotten them on the same table.”<br /><br /></div><div>“Yes, dear, diary and credit card coming up,” she said with a smirk.</div><div><br /></div></div>