When I was about 15 years old, my Dad worked part time for a mortuary. The funeral director sent Dad to Detroit to get the new hearse for them. As we drove cross country, I would roll out my sleeping bag in the back compartment of the hearse. This resulted in several interesting events. One was that Dad was passing an 18-wheeler, I looked out the side window of the hearse and waved at the driver. The driver panicked, seeing someone waive at him from the back of a funeral hearse. He slammed on his brakes and slid his big rig to a stop,
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