When I was a kid, I'd spend my summers at my grandparents house, in Memphis, Tennessee.
It was the 70's, and a pretty cool time to be on my own in a foreign land. Everywhere I went, I was accused of having a "funny accent" and when I told people my name was "Dan" they'd say "Darrin?"
Besides spending about 8 hours per day in the pool (which I did just about every day), we sometimes took road trips. My grandpa Art Miller would take his summer vacation, and they'd cart me across the South and East, primarily to Civil War sites, since I seemed to enjoy seeing the cannons.
The beverage of choice on all of these trips wasn't Coke, or Sprite, or Pepsi, or even Dr. Pepper; Nope. It was Shasta.
I don't exactly know why. Was Shasta that much cheaper? Or was it a bigger and bolder brand back then? I don't even know if they make it anymore, though I'd bet that they do.
I can still imagine the crisp flavor of grape, black cherry, and Shasta cola, and it pulls me back to those road trips and worry free days, where all I wanted was an Evel Keneval bicycle.
- Daniel
