You don't remember the jug?????

Of course you do! Let me spark a memory: we had some sort of system (every 200 miles? every 2 hours?) where we would change drivers. This system, as I recall, was sacrosanct . . . only broken ONCE . . . an occasion that I will try to relate on another post. Anyway, your chief complaint was that Joe would have 400 miles or 4 hours to take a swig from the jug (we all drank the same way: thrusting a forefinger through the hole, hoisting the jug over a shoulder, tilting our heads, and swilling away like some moonshiner), BUT even tho' he had 400 miles or 4 hours, he would not partake until he took the wheel, read the map, shifted gears, and turned his good ear to us. This ritual would send you into orbit. You have repressed this memory. Therapy will help.

As to the girls, I was more or less a bovine in those days. Dum de dum, dum de dum. Simply oblivious. You were the stud. I'm jealous.