Hopping Mad

When we were little, my brother Smedley and I would ride in the back of Uncle Nestor’s Chevy. These were innocent times, of course, when drinking and driving was not the maligned pastime it is today. Anyway, Uncle Nestor would, yes, drink and drive, rolling down his window and heave-ho-ing his numerous empties into the ditch while the car was still in motion. We would get so angry whenever we saw this and, one day, Smedley mustered up the courage I so lacked and shouted: “Hey! We like beer, too, you know!”

BILL