After a big supper at the big dining room table, with all the family gathered together, the old folks went to the front room and visited some more. Before long, it was time for Grampa to load us up and head for home. Sandy and I piled into the front seat, with me in the middle. We crossed the water on the small car ferry, arriving on the North Haven side in 10 minutes. We started up the hill toward Sag Harbor and that's when we ran into the fog. Grandpa wasn't a speedy driver, by any means, but he slowed down even further to meander through the veil of damp air as the sun began to set. We made our way along Rt 114, through Sag Harbor, and pointed toward East
Hampton. It was 'scary' foggy....at least to me. Grampa pressed his foot a little harder on the gas pedal, and then let it up. In a few minutes, Sandy and I were giggling at the forward and backward 'see saw' our bodies did with every push and let up of that gas pedal. I'll bet Sandy remembers that day, that tuna, and that foggy ride home, even now, some 55 years later!