My dad owns and operates a turfgrass farm. When I was a young kid, I would go on deliveries with him. He’d drive an eighteen-wheeler loaded with grass, usually to Columbus, GA. There was a time he listened to a lot of Tony Robbins audiotapes. That guy has an amazing rhythmic voice that I can still hear in the back of my head.
We would take a loaf of white bread and put it on the dashboard to warm in the sun. We’d arrive at the delivery location and I’d ride on the Spyder forklift with him while he placed the pallets. Afterward, we’d take the warm bread out and make sandwiches with it.