In Jax in '66, my stepdad had a refrigerated box truck for his business. One day my Uncle Bob and friend borrowed it (why?) and hit a low bridge overpass, also while drinking. His friend went thru the windshield and the rear of the truck was jack up. Looked like a dump truck emptying a load. Pretty much ended our private schools, lost our house, lost his business, and we wound up moving to ATL. for work. Before we moved, we learned what govt p-butter and cheese tasted like.
