His Coke Story is My Coke Story
This is really cool. To find another blogger who writes about an experience that I had.
I Remember JFK recalls the days of refilling his dad’s Coke machine. With one minor change, his story is my story.
The change is the kind of Coke machine. The machine my dad had had a lever that moved a big aluminum wheel with holes where you put the cokes on their side.
Boy do I remember the skinned knuckles from scrapping the cork out of the bottle caps to try to win a prize.
I wonder if there was an earlier contest than 1966 because I was away at college then. If it was in the summer it’s possible.
And I Remember JFK didn’t own up to helping himself to a hot coke (both stolen and warm) every now and then. I also would pee in a bottle to be returned once in a while just to be ornery.
The Coke guy always came to pick up the empty bottles when I wasn’t around I guess.
Clarification: my dad had a feed mill, not a garage.