He looks like me, and he acts like me. He even collects stuff like me. But he’s older by at least 20 years. So, I wonder out loud that if I am around by then, will I BE like him? His name is Art, and I first met him at a small car show in
In case you haven’t noticed, and I am sure you have, summer is half over. More depressing, there are several trees that are shedding some yellow, crisp leaves. Hey, Mr. Tree over there, it’s not even October yet! So don’t deflate our hot air balloons just yet, OK? On a brighter note, congratulate my father
In the late 1960s and into the mid-1970s, the Hurst Corporation (based in Pennsylvania) heavily promoted its line of speed parts, accessories and limited edition cars (usually Oldsmobiles) in a manner most males could appreciate: showgirls! Linda (Miss Hurst Shifter) Vaughn was the best known of the bunch. Blonde and buxom, and blessed with a
It’s come to my attention that my 13-year-old nephew bowed out of summer camp to spend a week at his grandmother’s house. Little did he know the same scenario played out for me when I was the same age. If he did, he might have asked for some advice. Now, I doubt his gram will
It must have been over seven years ago that I whined and moaned (using a Webb column as my venting post) that cool, functional, consumer-friendly items weren’t appearing before our very eyes as promised. You know, the flying cars, the interspace shuttles, the automatic kitchens, the rotating windmills in our yards. I mean, even the
On a bike ride through East End Park a few Sundays ago, there was a softbound book that had most of its pages ripped out. They were blown and scattered about the park grounds like a tree shedding leaves. I thought maybe a youngster, on his last day of school, “celebrated” the occasion by massacring
