Ken,
 
Just made me think of the last ride with my grandfather; I was  dragging 
him around "Amish" territory in SE PA in my MGTD (3 clicks up from  a powered 
Conestoga wagon), the top was down and he had an old Phillies cap on  that 
kept blowing off his head. We tooled around the back roads, with the great  
smells of haying time. At one point he shouted over to me, "Mike, you drive 
this  hotel like I'm a son-of-a-bitch!"
 
 

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