For us in the 21st century, that means hand-dipped or soft ice cream as well as yogurt, ice milk, and sherbet. In fact, here in the U.S. more than 1.6 billion gallons of ice cream are annually produced churning out $420 billion in retail sales.

This all started back in the mid-1500s in Italy. That is where the first evidence of ice cream surfaced. During the summer, Italians would fetch ice down from the mountains so that they could cool down their beverages. They discovered that if they mixed "mountain ice" with salt, they would wind up with a freezing mixture that was the basic form of ice cream. All that was missing was milk or cream.

Ice cream landed in the colonies in the early 1700s, and it took until 1809 for Dolley Madison to serve the concoction in the White House. A few years later, Jacob Fiessell opened the first ice cream factory in the U.S. down in Baltimore in 1851.

Then at the Louisiana Purchase Exposition in 1904 when Judy Garland told us in song to "Meet Me in St. Louis...Meet me at the fair..." the ice cream cone made its debut, thus making ice cream a delectable portable as well as creating a new way to consume it and drip it down one's front. Ol' Morgan suggests a Saturday or Sunday afternoon up in New Hope to observe this time-honored ritual first hand.

But, since we in the Tri County region are known for our manners and neatness, ol' Morgan advises getting in on the national celebration with a stop at a local purveyor of ice cream like Just Mom's in Glenmoore, El Video in Morgantown, Aunt Bobbi's at the Shady Maple Complex in East Earl, or the Windmill Restaurant in Morgantown.

Of course, a quart or a half-gallon of ice cream from a local supermarket also can make an evening sittin' on the porch that much more satisfying.

Well, as fate would have it, the air conditioning in ol' Morgan's trusty Olds pooped out. Thank goodness the windows still crank down. What did we ever do before car manufacturers included air conditioning in their vehicles? Drove around with the windows down, just like we did on one of our family vacation trips to North Carolina. That was back in the '50s when Eisenhower's idea for an interstate highway

network was beginning to take shape. Our trip featured seven passengers: our family of four and ol' Morgan's uncle's family of three traveling in Uncle Stack's new red and white Ford. We sat three up front and four in back, back and forth to Greensboro.

Funny thing but ol' Morgan doesn't recall too much complaining about the heat during the trip. That breeze from the two-lane highway seemed adequate enough. Maybe it was those wing windows that brought in more of a breeze that somehow soothed sweaty spirits. Today, we've gotten to the point where going less than a mile without the a/c creates a great discomfort, especially for the younger generation.

As ol' Morgan was making his way about the Tri County the other day without the benefit of air conditioning, he witnessed an almost sideswipe as one driver failed to observe a Yield sign and continued into traffic. In ol' Morgan's opinion, said driver was definitely in the wrong as he did not do what the sign ordered, Yield. Wonder how many of us in similar situations just slow down without yielding the right-of-way to those who legally have it? Is ol' Morgan being cranky? He doesn't think so when such action can ultimately affect the rate ol' Morgan (and all of us) pays for car insurance.

And another thing that continues to bug ol' Morgan is when a driver or passenger winds up and tosses a cigarette butt out the window. Ever notice how deliberate the hand-arm motion is as though the person has studied under some butt master? Not only is that person littering, he or she is also increasing the risk in rural areas for a brush or forest fire. Cranky? Ol' Morgan doesn't think so, wouldn't you agree?

Over the wireless came news that Leslie Charles has written a book, "Why Is Everyone So Cranky," addressing America's rage epidemic. She claims that we don't have enough time but too much technology thus leading to stress and a feeling of unfulfillment.

Hmmm. Maybe those butt-tossers and yield violators are unfulfilled.

TCR -Ol' Morgan

There is one thing about summer that gets even ol' Morgan off the porch for a while-and, no, Janet Oberholtzer, this newspaper's garden

columnist, it is not weeding, hoeing, or cutting the grass. It's ice cream! For those of you who may not be in the know, July is "National Ice

Cream Month."

For us in the 21st century, that means hand-dipped or soft ice cream as well as yogurt, ice milk, and sherbet. In fact, here in the U.S.

more than 1.6 billion gallons of ice cream are annually produced churning out $420 billion in retail sales.

This all started back in the mid-1500s in Italy. That is where the first evidence of ice cream surfaced. During the summer, Italians would

fetch ice down from the mountains so that they could cool down their beverages. They discovered that if they mixed "mountain ice" with

salt, they would wind up with a freezing mixture that was the basic form of ice cream. All that was missing was milk or cream.

Ice cream landed in the colonies in the early 1700s, and it took until 1809 for Dolley Madison to serve the concoction in the White

House. A few years later, Jacob Fiessell opened the first ice cream factory in the U.S. down in Baltimore in 1851.

Then at the Louisiana Purchase Exposition in 1904 when Judy Garland told us in song to "Meet Me in St. Louis...Meet me at the fair..."

the ice cream cone made its debut, thus making ice cream a delectable portable as well as creating a new way to consume it and drip it

down one's front. Ol' Morgan suggests a Saturday or Sunday afternoon up in New Hope to observe this time-honored ritual first hand.

But, since we in the Tri County region are known for our manners and neatness, ol' Morgan advises getting in on the national celebration

with a stop at a local purveyor of ice cream like Just Mom's in Glenmoore, El Video in Morgantown, Aunt Bobbi's at the Shady Maple

Complex in East Earl, or the Windmill Restaurant in Morgantown.

Of course, a quart or a half-gallon of ice cream from a local supermarket also can make an evening sittin' on the porch that much more

satisfying.

Well, as fate would have it, the air conditioning in ol' Morgan's trusty Olds pooped out. Thank goodness the windows still crank down.

What did we ever do before car manufacturers included air conditioning in their vehicles? Drove around with the windows down, just like

we did on one of our family vacation trips to North Carolina. That was back in the '50s when Eisenhower's idea for an interstate highway

network was beginning to take shape. Our trip featured seven passengers: our family of four and ol' Morgan's uncle's family of three

traveling in Uncle Stack's new red and white Ford. We sat three up front and four in back, back and forth to Greensboro.

Funny thing but ol' Morgan doesn't recall too much complaining about the heat during the trip. That breeze from the two-lane highway

seemed adequate enough. Maybe it was those wing windows that brought in more of a breeze that somehow soothed sweaty spirits.

Today, we've gotten to the point where going less than a mile without the a/c creates a great discomfort, especially for the younger

generation.

As ol' Morgan was making his way about the Tri County the other day without the benefit of air conditioning, he witnessed an almost

sideswipe as one driver failed to observe a Yield sign and continued into traffic. In ol' Morgan's opinion, said driver was definitely in the

wrong as he did not do what the sign ordered, Yield. Wonder how many of us in similar situations just slow down without yielding the

right-of-way to those who legally have it? Is ol' Morgan being cranky? He doesn't think so when such action can ultimately affect the rate

ol' Morgan (and all of us) pays for car insurance.

And another thing that continues to bug ol' Morgan is when a driver or passenger winds up and tosses a cigarette butt out the window.

Ever notice how deliberate the hand-arm motion is as though the person has studied under some butt master? Not only is that person

littering, he or she is also increasing the risk in rural areas for a brush or forest fire. Cranky? Ol' Morgan doesn't think so, wouldn't you

agree?

Over the wireless came news that Leslie Charles has written a book, "Why Is Everyone So Cranky," addressing America's rage epidemic.

She claims that we don't have enough time but too much technology thus leading to stress and a feeling of unfulfillment.

Hmmm. Maybe those butt-tossers and yield violators are unfulfilled.

There is one thing about summer that gets even ol' Morgan off the porch for a while-and, no, Janet Oberholtzer, this newspaper's garden columnist, it is not weeding, hoeing, or cutting the grass. It's ice cream! For those of you who may not be in the know, July is "National Ice Cream Month."

For us in the 21st century, that means hand-dipped or soft ice cream as well as yogurt, ice milk, and sherbet. In fact, here in the U.S. more than 1.6 billion gallons of ice cream are annually produced churning out $420 billion in retail sales.

This all started back in the mid-1500s in Italy. That is where the first evidence of ice cream surfaced. During the summer, Italians would fetch ice down from the mountains so that they could cool down their beverages. They discovered that if they mixed "mountain ice" with salt, they would wind up with a freezing mixture that was the basic form of ice cream. All that was missing was milk or cream.

Ice cream landed in the colonies in the early 1700s, and it took until 1809 for Dolley Madison to serve the concoction in the White House. A few years later, Jacob Fiessell opened the first ice cream factory in the U.S. down in Baltimore in 1851.

Then at the Louisiana Purchase Exposition in 1904 when Judy Garland told us in song to "Meet Me in St. Louis...Meet me at the fair..." the ice cream cone made its debut, thus making ice cream a delectable portable as well as creating a new way to consume it and drip it down one's front. Ol' Morgan suggests a Saturday or Sunday afternoon up in New Hope to observe this time-honored ritual first hand.

But, since we in the Tri County region are known for our manners and neatness, ol' Morgan advises getting in on the national celebration with a stop at a local purveyor of ice cream like Just Mom's in Glenmoore, El Video in Morgantown, Aunt Bobbi's at the Shady Maple Complex in East Earl, or the Windmill Restaurant in Morgantown.

Of course, a quart or a half-gallon of ice cream from a local supermarket also can make an evening sittin' on the porch that much more satisfying.

Well, as fate would have it, the air conditioning in ol' Morgan's trusty Olds pooped out. Thank goodness the windows still crank down. What did we ever do before car manufacturers included air conditioning in their vehicles? Drove around with the windows down, just like we did on one of our family vacation trips to North Carolina. That was back in the '50s when Eisenhower's idea for an interstate highway

network was beginning to take shape. Our trip featured seven passengers: our family of four and ol' Morgan's uncle's family of three traveling in Uncle Stack's new red and white Ford. We sat three up front and four in back, back and forth to Greensboro.

Funny thing but ol' Morgan doesn't recall too much complaining about the heat during the trip. That breeze from the two-lane highway seemed adequate enough. Maybe it was those wing windows that brought in more of a breeze that somehow soothed sweaty spirits. Today, we've gotten to the point where going less than a mile without the a/c creates a great discomfort, especially for the younger generation.

As ol' Morgan was making his way about the Tri County the other day without the benefit of air conditioning, he witnessed an almost sideswipe as one driver failed to observe a Yield sign and continued into traffic. In ol' Morgan's opinion, said driver was definitely in the wrong as he did not do what the sign ordered, Yield. Wonder how many of us in similar situations just slow down without yielding the right-of-way to those who legally have it? Is ol' Morgan being cranky? He doesn't think so when such action can ultimately affect the rate ol' Morgan (and all of us) pays for car insurance.

And another thing that continues to bug ol' Morgan is when a driver or passenger winds up and tosses a cigarette butt out the window. Ever notice how deliberate the hand-arm motion is as though the person has studied under some butt master? Not only is that person littering, he or she is also increasing the risk in rural areas for a brush or forest fire. Cranky? Ol' Morgan doesn't think so, wouldn't you agree?

Over the wireless came news that Leslie Charles has written a book, "Why Is Everyone So Cranky," addressing America's rage epidemic. She claims that we don't have enough time but too much technology thus leading to stress and a feeling of unfulfillment.

Hmmm. Maybe those butt-tossers and yield violators are unfulfilled.

TCR -Ol' Morgan

There is one thing about summer that gets even ol' Morgan off the porch for a while-and, no, Janet Oberholtzer, this newspaper's garden

columnist, it is not weeding, hoeing, or cutting the grass. It's ice cream! For those of you who may not be in the know, July is "National Ice

Cream Month."

For us in the 21st century, that means hand-dipped or soft ice cream as well as yogurt, ice milk, and sherbet. In fact, here in the U.S.

more than 1.6 billion gallons of ice cream are annually produced churning out $420 billion in retail sales.

This all started back in the mid-1500s in Italy. That is where the first evidence of ice cream surfaced. During the summer, Italians would

fetch ice down from the mountains so that they could cool down their beverages. They discovered that if they mixed "mountain ice" with

salt, they would wind up with a freezing mixture that was the basic form of ice cream. All that was missing was milk or cream.

Ice cream landed in the colonies in the early 1700s, and it took until 1809 for Dolley Madison to serve the concoction in the White

House. A few years later, Jacob Fiessell opened the first ice cream factory in the U.S. down in Baltimore in 1851.

Then at the Louisiana Purchase Exposition in 1904 when Judy Garland told us in song to "Meet Me in St. Louis...Meet me at the fair..."

the ice cream cone made its debut, thus making ice cream a delectable portable as well as creating a new way to consume it and drip it

down one's front. Ol' Morgan suggests a Saturday or Sunday afternoon up in New Hope to observe this time-honored ritual first hand.

But, since we in the Tri County region are known for our manners and neatness, ol' Morgan advises getting in on the national celebration

with a stop at a local purveyor of ice cream like Just Mom's in Glenmoore, El Video in Morgantown, Aunt Bobbi's at the Shady Maple

Complex in East Earl, or the Windmill Restaurant in Morgantown.

Of course, a quart or a half-gallon of ice cream from a local supermarket also can make an evening sittin' on the porch that much more

satisfying.

Well, as fate would have it, the air conditioning in ol' Morgan's trusty Olds pooped out. Thank goodness the windows still crank down.

What did we ever do before car manufacturers included air conditioning in their vehicles? Drove around with the windows down, just like

we did on one of our family vacation trips to North Carolina. That was back in the '50s when Eisenhower's idea for an interstate highway

network was beginning to take shape. Our trip featured seven passengers: our family of four and ol' Morgan's uncle's family of three

traveling in Uncle Stack's new red and white Ford. We sat three up front and four in back, back and forth to Greensboro.

Funny thing but ol' Morgan doesn't recall too much complaining about the heat during the trip. That breeze from the two-lane highway

seemed adequate enough. Maybe it was those wing windows that brought in more of a breeze that somehow soothed sweaty spirits.

Today, we've gotten to the point where going less than a mile without the a/c creates a great discomfort, especially for the younger

generation.

As ol' Morgan was making his way about the Tri County the other day without the benefit of air conditioning, he witnessed an almost

sideswipe as one driver failed to observe a Yield sign and continued into traffic. In ol' Morgan's opinion, said driver was definitely in the

wrong as he did not do what the sign ordered, Yield. Wonder how many of us in similar situations just slow down without yielding the

right-of-way to those who legally have it? Is ol' Morgan being cranky? He doesn't think so when such action can ultimately affect the rate

ol' Morgan (and all of us) pays for car insurance.

And another thing that continues to bug ol' Morgan is when a driver or passenger winds up and tosses a cigarette butt out the window.

Ever notice how deliberate the hand-arm motion is as though the person has studied under some butt master? Not only is that person

littering, he or she is also increasing the risk in rural areas for a brush or forest fire. Cranky? Ol' Morgan doesn't think so, wouldn't you

agree?

Over the wireless came news that Leslie Charles has written a book, "Why Is Everyone So Cranky," addressing America's rage epidemic.

She claims that we don't have enough time but too much technology thus leading to stress and a feeling of unfulfillment.

Hmmm. Maybe those butt-tossers and yield violators are unfulfilled.

There is one thing about summer that gets even ol' Morgan off the porch for a while-and, no, Janet Oberholtzer, this newspaper's garden columnist, it is not weeding, hoeing, or cutting the grass. It's ice cream! For those of you who may not be in the know, July is "National Ice Cream Month."

For us in the 21st century, that means hand-dipped or soft ice cream as well as yogurt, ice milk, and sherbet. In fact, here in the U.S. more than 1.6 billion gallons of ice cream are annually produced churning out $420 billion in retail sales.

This all started back in the mid-1500s in Italy. That is where the first evidence of ice cream surfaced. During the summer, Italians would fetch ice down from the mountains so that they could cool down their beverages. They discovered that if they mixed "mountain ice" with salt, they would wind up with a freezing mixture that was the basic form of ice cream. All that was missing was milk or cream.

Ice cream landed in the colonies in the early 1700s, and it took until 1809 for Dolley Madison to serve the concoction in the White House. A few years later, Jacob Fiessell opened the first ice cream factory in the U.S. down in Baltimore in 1851.

Then at the Louisiana Purchase Exposition in 1904 when Judy Garland told us in song to "Meet Me in St. Louis...Meet me at the fair..." the ice cream cone made its debut, thus making ice cream a delectable portable as well as creating a new way to consume it and drip it down one's front. Ol' Morgan suggests a Saturday or Sunday afternoon up in New Hope to observe this time-honored ritual first hand.

But, since we in the Tri County region are known for our manners and neatness, ol' Morgan advises getting in on the national celebration with a stop at a local purveyor of ice cream like Just Mom's in Glenmoore, El Video in Morgantown, Aunt Bobbi's at the Shady Maple Complex in East Earl, or the Windmill Restaurant in Morgantown.

Of course, a quart or a half-gallon of ice cream from a local supermarket also can make an evening sittin' on the porch that much more satisfying.

Well, as fate would have it, the air conditioning in ol' Morgan's trusty Olds pooped out. Thank goodness the windows still crank down. What did we ever do before car manufacturers included air conditioning in their vehicles? Drove around with the windows down, just like we did on one of our family vacation trips to North Carolina. That was back in the '50s when Eisenhower's idea for an interstate highway

network was beginning to take shape. Our trip featured seven passengers: our family of four and ol' Morgan's uncle's family of three traveling in Uncle Stack's new red and white Ford. We sat three up front and four in back, back and forth to Greensboro.

Funny thing but ol' Morgan doesn't recall too much complaining about the heat during the trip. That breeze from the two-lane highway seemed adequate enough. Maybe it was those wing windows that brought in more of a breeze that somehow soothed sweaty spirits. Today, we've gotten to the point where going less than a mile without the a/c creates a great discomfort, especially for the younger generation.

As ol' Morgan was making his way about the Tri County the other day without the benefit of air conditioning, he witnessed an almost sideswipe as one driver failed to observe a Yield sign and continued into traffic. In ol' Morgan's opinion, said driver was definitely in the wrong as he did not do what the sign ordered, Yield. Wonder how many of us in similar situations just slow down without yielding the right-of-way to those who legally have it? Is ol' Morgan being cranky? He doesn't think so when such action can ultimately affect the rate ol' Morgan (and all of us) pays for car insurance.

And another thing that continues to bug ol' Morgan is when a driver or passenger winds up and tosses a cigarette butt out the window. Ever notice how deliberate the hand-arm motion is as though the person has studied under some butt master? Not only is that person littering, he or she is also increasing the risk in rural areas for a brush or forest fire. Cranky? Ol' Morgan doesn't think so, wouldn't you agree?

Over the wireless came news that Leslie Charles has written a book, "Why Is Everyone So Cranky," addressing America's rage epidemic. She claims that we don't have enough time but too much technology thus leading to stress and a feeling of unfulfillment.

Hmmm. Maybe those butt-tossers and yield violators are unfulfilled.

TCR -Ol' Morgan

There is one thing about summer that gets even ol' Morgan off the porch for a while-and, no, Janet Oberholtzer, this newspaper's garden

columnist, it is not weeding, hoeing, or cutting the grass. It's ice cream! For those of you who may not be in the know, July is "National Ice

Cream Month."

For us in the 21st century, that means hand-dipped or soft ice cream as well as yogurt, ice milk, and sherbet. In fact, here in the U.S.

more than 1.6 billion gallons of ice cream are annually produced churning out $420 billion in retail sales.

This all started back in the mid-1500s in Italy. That is where the first evidence of ice cream surfaced. During the summer, Italians would

fetch ice down from the mountains so that they could cool down their beverages. They discovered that if they mixed "mountain ice" with

salt, they would wind up with a freezing mixture that was the basic form of ice cream. All that was missing was milk or cream.

Ice cream landed in the colonies in the early 1700s, and it took until 1809 for Dolley Madison to serve the concoction in the White

House. A few years later, Jacob Fiessell opened the first ice cream factory in the U.S. down in Baltimore in 1851.

Then at the Louisiana Purchase Exposition in 1904 when Judy Garland told us in song to "Meet Me in St. Louis...Meet me at the fair..."

the ice cream cone made its debut, thus making ice cream a delectable portable as well as creating a new way to consume it and drip it

down one's front. Ol' Morgan suggests a Saturday or Sunday afternoon up in New Hope to observe this time-honored ritual first hand.

But, since we in the Tri County region are known for our manners and neatness, ol' Morgan advises getting in on the national celebration

with a stop at a local purveyor of ice cream like Just Mom's in Glenmoore, El Video in Morgantown, Aunt Bobbi's at the Shady Maple

Complex in East Earl, or the Windmill Restaurant in Morgantown.

Of course, a quart or a half-gallon of ice cream from a local supermarket also can make an evening sittin' on the porch that much more

satisfying.

Well, as fate would have it, the air conditioning in ol' Morgan's trusty Olds pooped out. Thank goodness the windows still crank down.

What did we ever do before car manufacturers included air conditioning in their vehicles? Drove around with the windows down, just like

we did on one of our family vacation trips to North Carolina. That was back in the '50s when Eisenhower's idea for an interstate highway

network was beginning to take shape. Our trip featured seven passengers: our family of four and ol' Morgan's uncle's family of three

traveling in Uncle Stack's new red and white Ford. We sat three up front and four in back, back and forth to Greensboro.

Funny thing but ol' Morgan doesn't recall too much complaining about the heat during the trip. That breeze from the two-lane highway

seemed adequate enough. Maybe it was those wing windows that brought in more of a breeze that somehow soothed sweaty spirits.

Today, we've gotten to the point where going less than a mile without the a/c creates a great discomfort, especially for the younger

generation.

As ol' Morgan was making his way about the Tri County the other day without the benefit of air conditioning, he witnessed an almost

sideswipe as one driver failed to observe a Yield sign and continued into traffic. In ol' Morgan's opinion, said driver was definitely in the

wrong as he did not do what the sign ordered, Yield. Wonder how many of us in similar situations just slow down without yielding the

right-of-way to those who legally have it? Is ol' Morgan being cranky? He doesn't think so when such action can ultimately affect the rate

ol' Morgan (and all of us) pays for car insurance.

And another thing that continues to bug ol' Morgan is when a driver or passenger winds up and tosses a cigarette butt out the window.

Ever notice how deliberate the hand-arm motion is as though the person has studied under some butt master? Not only is that person

littering, he or she is also increasing the risk in rural areas for a brush or forest fire. Cranky? Ol' Morgan doesn't think so, wouldn't you

agree?

Over the wireless came news that Leslie Charles has written a book, "Why Is Everyone So Cranky," addressing America's rage epidemic.

She claims that we don't have enough time but too much technology thus leading to stress and a feeling of unfulfillment.

Hmmm. Maybe those butt-tossers and yield violators are unfulfilled.

There is one thing about summer that gets even ol' Morgan off the porch for a while-and, no, Janet Oberholtzer, this newspaper's garden columnist, it is not weeding, hoeing, or cutting the grass.

By By:

It's ice cream! For those of you who may not be in the know, July is "National Ice Cream Month."

For us in the 21st century, that means hand-dipped or soft ice cream as well as yogurt, ice milk, and sherbet. In fact, here in the U.S. more than 1.6 billion gallons of ice cream are annually produced churning out $420 billion in retail sales.

This all started back in the mid-1500s in Italy. That is where the first evidence of ice cream surfaced. During the summer, Italians would fetch ice down from the mountains so that they could cool down their beverages. They discovered that if they mixed "mountain ice" with salt, they would wind up with a freezing mixture that was the basic form of ice cream. All that was missing was milk or cream.

Ice cream landed in the colonies in the early 1700s, and it took until 1809 for Dolley Madison to serve the concoction in the White House. A few years later, Jacob Fiessell opened the first ice cream factory in the U.S. down in Baltimore in 1851.

Then at the Louisiana Purchase Exposition in 1904 when Judy Garland told us in song to "Meet Me in St. Louis...Meet me at the fair..." the ice cream cone made its debut, thus making ice cream a delectable portable as well as creating a new way to consume it and drip it down one's front. Ol' Morgan suggests a Saturday or Sunday afternoon up in New Hope to observe this time-honored ritual first hand.

But, since we in the Tri County region are known for our manners and neatness, ol' Morgan advises getting in on the national celebration with a stop at a local purveyor of ice cream like Just Mom's in Glenmoore, El Video in Morgantown, Aunt Bobbi's at the Shady Maple Complex in East Earl, or the Windmill Restaurant in Morgantown.

Of course, a quart or a half-gallon of ice cream from a local supermarket also can make an evening sittin' on the porch that much more satisfying.

Well, as fate would have it, the air conditioning in ol' Morgan's trusty Olds pooped out. Thank goodness the windows still crank down. What did we ever do before car manufacturers included air conditioning in their vehicles? Drove around with the windows down, just like we did on one of our family vacation trips to North Carolina. That was back in the '50s when Eisenhower's idea for an interstate highway

network was beginning to take shape. Our trip featured seven passengers: our family of four and ol' Morgan's uncle's family of three traveling in Uncle Stack's new red and white Ford. We sat three up front and four in back, back and forth to Greensboro.

Funny thing but ol' Morgan doesn't recall too much complaining about the heat during the trip. That breeze from the two-lane highway seemed adequate enough. Maybe it was those wing windows that brought in more of a breeze that somehow soothed sweaty spirits. Today, we've gotten to the point where going less than a mile without the a/c creates a great discomfort, especially for the younger generation.

As ol' Morgan was making his way about the Tri County the other day without the benefit of air conditioning, he witnessed an almost sideswipe as one driver failed to observe a Yield sign and continued into traffic. In ol' Morgan's opinion, said driver was definitely in the wrong as he did not do what the sign ordered, Yield. Wonder how many of us in similar situations just slow down without yielding the right-of-way to those who legally have it? Is ol' Morgan being cranky? He doesn't think so when such action can ultimately affect the rate ol' Morgan (and all of us) pays for car insurance.

And another thing that continues to bug ol' Morgan is when a driver or passenger winds up and tosses a cigarette butt out the window. Ever notice how deliberate the hand-arm motion is as though the person has studied under some butt master? Not only is that person littering, he or she is also increasing the risk in rural areas for a brush or forest fire. Cranky? Ol' Morgan doesn't think so, wouldn't you agree?

Over the wireless came news that Leslie Charles has written a book, "Why Is Everyone So Cranky," addressing America's rage epidemic. She claims that we don't have enough time but too much technology thus leading to stress and a feeling of unfulfillment.

Hmmm. Maybe those butt-tossers and yield violators are unfulfilled.

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