Use the Force, Ken

I remember when they used to tell us to steer into a skid, but I don't believe that I've ever done it. When you're out of control, the first thing you need to do is take your foot completely off the gas and don't touch the brake unless you absolutely have to. After that, your instincts take over, and they will tell you to steer in the direction you want to go. If you overcorrect, just cut the wheel back the other way, only not so far this time. I don't know when they changed the rules to make them consistent with common sense, but I'm pretty sure that they did because, the last time I read something about it, it said to do exactly what I have always done by instinct.

I don't know what to think about the Corvair. I knew a guy who owned one, and he really liked it. Since Nadar wrote his book, I have read both pro and con about it and I don't know who to believe. I suppose it doesn't matter anymore because they stopped making them a long time ago. The only thing I know about Nadar is that he has never worked for any government agency. He called himself a "consumer advocate", and a lot of people assumed that was some kind of government job, but it wasn't. Nadar was just a self appointed expert who thought his mission in life was to tell everybody else what to do. I hate people like that!

We had good chow in Berlin. Of course it wasn't like home, but nothing ever is. I don't think that Smitty ever took food out of our mouths to sell because we always had plenty. He probably just sold off the surplus instead of throwing it away, and I can't fault him for that. Like I said, nobody cared about those C-ration cigarettes because they could get regular cigarettes at the PX for cheap. We had ration cards, but they allowed us a carton a week, which was plenty for most guys. If they wanted more, they could buy them one pack at a time for a higher price, which was still pretty cheap. I seem to remember that a carton cost a dollar fifty, and the single packs went for a quarter a piece.

I worked briefly at a pig farm when I was in Alaska, and we used to get edible garbage from a nearby military post to feed our hogs. After the hogs cleaned out their troughs, we would frequently find eating utensils left behind. We put them into a burlap sack that was hung on a fence post and, when the sack was full, we would take it back to the military base, where they would trade us either coffee or sugar for it, pound for pound. I suppose that was easier than watching over the guys to prevent them from throwing their silverware in with the edible garbage. I don't think that was ever a problem in Berlin, at least I never witnessed it.