My dad used to call the conical salt bins you pass on the highway "road tits." If there were two, he called it a double road tit.
"There's a double road tit."
While driving, sometimes Dad would reach behind the seat and tickle my ankle. That meant hi i love you. Sometimes he'd form a letter C with his fingers and thumb and make a back and forth shaking gesture. That meant get me a beer.
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