Going to Coney in Style
My mother raised four boys without a husband. Well, she had this one guy. We couldn't talk about him because we lived in a Jewish neighborhood and he was Italian. His name was Tony, so we called him T. T drove a garbage truck. We'd all get in the front of the garbage truck and go to Coney Island. You know what the great thing about going to Coney Island in a garbage truck was? In the twenties and thirties, the garbage trucks were big. People got out of the way. So you were sitting up there like a king.