The Mayor's CowMama loved those long autumn Sunday drives. She would pile Aunt Mary and me into her little VW bug which was hard-pressed to carry even three people so I guess it was a good thing my brother Jim never wanted to go. Papa wasn't around much then. I remember that Papa's visits always made Mama cry, until she bought the VW and it became a new lease on life, an opportunity to escape I guess, and there we'd go motoring through the foothills of New Jersey.
I was no more than 8-years young, and that car's rear seat was my domain on those adventures. An honest admission is that I wasn't thrilled about the prospects of long, tedious hours spent chugging through unknown territory, often lost, hoping our car makes the next hill. I would rather have stayed home with my friends, or my do
