Perfect Behavior: A Guide for Ladies and Gentlemen in All Social Crises

When the damage has been repaired and the car is once more speeding along, leaving behind it mile after mile of dusty road as well as father’s best “jack” and set of tire tools, the small boy will suddenly remark, “I’m hungry.” His father will then reply, “We’ll be at a fine place to eat in ten minutes.” Thirty minutes later mother will remark, “Will, that looks like a good place for a picnic over there.” The father will reply, “No— we’re coming to a wonderful place— just trust me, Mary!” Twenty minutes later Aunt Florence will say, “Will, I think that grove over there would be fine for our lunch,” to which the husband will reply, “We’re almost at the place I know about— it’s ideal for a picnic.” Forty minutes after this, father will stop the car and point to a clump of trees. “There,” he will say, “what do you think of that?” “Oh, we can’t eat there!” will be the answer of mother, daughter and Aunt Florence. “Drive on a bit further— I think I know a place.” Three hours and thirty minutes later (i. e. four hours past your normal lunch hour) there will be another puncture and as the car stops beside a wheat field it will begin to rain, and the daughter will sigh, “Well, we might as well eat here.” The “picnic” will then be held in the car, and nothing really quite carries one back to nature and primeval man as does warm lemonade and a lettuce sandwich in a Buick with the top up and side curtains on.