I don't know if you've heard your parents speak of COKE or Orange soda or Pepsi coming in real glass bottles. Well, it did. One summer (this dates me) my brother and I picked up bottles along the dirt road near our farm. We knew each bottle was redeemable for three cents - three whole cents. We dragged a big burlap sack behind us, braving wasps and copperheads, in heat rivaling the surface of the sun (the sun is a star, you know). We tramped through garbage folks from town dumped along our road. In the end our hemp sack rattled with seventy-four bottles. Admittedly, many bottles contained slim or moss or unidentifiable gunk that smelled horrible. Nonetheless, we focused on the cash - riches, gold, treasure - with which we were going to buy candy and sodas and treats.

The point of redemption, three miles up Highway 103, was at King's Sinclair Gas Station. Three long miles. We took turns dragging that bulging sack through the summer sun. An hour later, dripping with sweat, we presented our labors to Mr. King relaxing next to an oscillating fan on a high stool in the poorly lit store. Our mouths watered - three cents a bottle!

He offered us, sight unseen, $1.15.  Final offer. Take it or leave it.

We took the money. We took the money and thanked him then walked back home without buying candy or drinks or treats.

Do you think we hurt Mr. King's feelings not buying anything from his store? A soda would have tasted great about then. We showed him though, not buying anything and walking back home beneath a scorching sun (the sun is a very bright, very hot star, you know).