Our first Thanksgiving in Atlanta was in 1968. My grandparents came for Thanksgiving. After dinner we went to watch the lighting of the tree on top of Rich’s.
Walking back to the car afterwards, my brother, sisters & myself (as well as my parents) were wondering what that God awful smell was. We were crossing a bridge over RR Tracks and my Grandma almost made it without being ID’d. But she giggled.
“That’s not the train, that’s Grandma!”
Prolly what Harry said.
My first Christmas with the Mrs and her family, we went from San Ramon to Burlingame, CA across the San Mateo Bridge. On the way back from Burlingame, my Mrs, her sister and I were driving over the bridge when...
“PHEW!!!!!!!!!! WHAT’S THAT SMELL??????”
My SIL swore up and down that it was the smell of the Bay...except we had closed windows, and she was the one who ID’d the smell...
To this day, we don’t let her forget about her “gaseous” incident.