It was shopping day with Dad. Now I don't know about you, but shopping day with Dad was a rare occurrence and as a middle child, even rarer to do alone with just you and your Dad. We piled into the station wagon. Dad in the driver seat, me right behind him standing on the front seat looking over his shoulder. At the time there were no car seats or seat belts. Back then, you would find yourself riding in the front or the back (it didn't matter) seat minding your own business, when at some point one of your parents had to hit the brakes. Miraculously you would not go flying into the dash board, or smack your head into the wind shield. No! Instead you got drilled in the chest with a forearm swipe so fast, and perfectly placed that it would take two blocks for your bruised lungs to start working again. Now shopping trips with Dad may have been few an far between, but you always knew where you were going, and it was always Sears. The shopping part of this trip was uneventful, so after we were done shopping we piled back into the station wagon. WCCO was always on the radio, the Canon mess or the Gopher's basketball was blasting out of the Delco's, when I pulled the Life Savers out of my pocket. All was quiet. "Where did you get that candy from?!" asked my father. Now I don't know about you, but even at three years old, you know when you're busted, and I was busted. "I don't know?" Was the conditioned response from this guilt riddled boy next to him, and I knew that the big blues were not going to get me out of this one. He turned the car around, and back to Sears we went. With crocodile tears, retribution was made and the weight of the world was restored to it proper place and I was back in mine. Behind my dad with my head on his shoulder....heading home in the station wagon.