An inedible stew of visual lunacy much of which I concocted with my own three hands.
The Breakfast truck arrives at the DeLorean Plant Dunmurry, N. Ire. 1982
When I was 17-years-old I worked at both the Pabst and Budweiser breweries. Summer jobs, getting union wages.The "Beer Room," where men shaped-up each morning at 6 a.m. had a cooler filled with frosty cold cans of ale, and there were two tapped kegs.Breakfast for most was liquid.I never drove the trucks. I was just a helper. One day, by the time the truck was loaded so was the driver I was paired up with.We never made it through the gate that day. Instead we drove right through it, taking out about three parked vehicles and a guard post before coming to an abrupt stop.
Explaining to the Safety Authorities:No, No, he wasn't intoxicated he works in Quality Control he is supposed to drink on the job.
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