In the mid ‘60s, the license plate of the car my roommate drove in Seminary was VD. It was her mother’s car, and they were her mom’s initials. It was an innocent time; we had no clue it meant anything else, and neither did her sheltered PA Dutch mother.
When I worked at MHMR, our department secretary parked her truck backed into the space with the tailgate against the building-because the license plate on it read EAT69-and not someone’s vanity plate, either-the same one that was on it when she bought the truck-everyone thought it was hilarious, but I can see her not wanting to park at the grocery store, mall, etc. This was in the mid-70’s, when most people still had a sense of humor for adult jokes and such-I’m sure today some Karen or BLM type would toss a Molotov cocktail into her truck with that plate on it...