Was listening to Opie & Jim Norton the other morning and they were talking about dropping garbage off at the dumps on a weekly basis.
My heart skipped a beat.
Now, dumping garbage shouldn't cause a heart to skip a beat, but it did for me.
As kids we had to load up the truck so that we could take the considerable Fazzolari garbage and toss it out into the field.
We usually made the trip on Saturday afternoons.
Dad driving all of us up Shirley Road.
I tried to think of the exact location of the dump...but couldn't actually recall what street it was on.
Is it still there?
Dad was creative during those trips.
He'd sit one of us on his lap and let us steer home.
Sometimes he'd coast down the road...
...sometimes we'd ride in the back of the truck.
I distinctly remember the yellow Ford pickup truck.
But there were a lot of different vehicles over the years.
The dumps also played another important role in my life.
It was where I learned to drive.
My family wasn't that keen on letting me behind the wheel.
They still aren't.
I tried driving on the main roads with my buddy Jeff Renaldo once, but he quit when I took the corner at Milestrip at about 68 MPH.
So, my buddy Tom took over.
He drove us up to the dumps and pulled over.
"Smash into all the garbage you want," he said.
I practiced all my turns up there.
There was garbage stuck in the grill.
Tom talked me through it all.
I eventually passed my test.
Who knew that garbage could play such an important role?
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