sheeny man, [[1950's junk dealer with horse-drawn wagon)

[lpg]

Burning the trash in the alley in that big wire basket with my father in the late 50’s and early 60’s was always something I looked forward to. You could poke the trash through the wires with a stick and make embers fly high into the air. It’s a miracle that the garage never burned down. Happy simple time gone forever.

As a kid I was always next to my mom when it was time to burn the trash in the wire basket. I bugged her to let me poke the fire to make sure everything burned. One day she said OK. I carefully did what I was supposed to until I touched her arm with the red hot poker to see if it was really that hot. That was the end of my trash burning career. It also earned me a first class ass whoopin'.