Just thinking about my grandfather. He was about 5-1/2 feet tall. His shoulders were about 4-1/2 feet wide. One of his fingers got chopped off in a machine. He worked on a dairy farm all his life, including carrying milk cans and delivering milk in the city. He used to tell of how the drivers would fight to get the new (used maybe) trucks that had side windows in them. They used to deliver milk in the open cabs, and the windshield would ice up so you couldn’t see. His solution? He would cut an onion in half and rub it on the windshield to prevent it from freezing. He was one tough, ornery SOB but always nice to us kids when we’d visit. I loved listening to those stories. I wish I had pictures of the trucks on the farm. I wish he had met my son, or seen my truck. He would have thought it was cool.
