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Why is one vivid and why is one blank ? Could be a matter of rehearsal. I thought about the milk wagon story many times, because it was something of a story. The other not so much, maybe simply an event and thus not the trouble of remembering, except as a morality tale of the goodness of some.
The event that I remember was in Belgium, which was a country that had no un-walled field land. It was stone walls everywhere, the stone having been removed from the fields and used for wall building, as squat, fat and low, three to four feet high on average.
The Swedish girl Elsa and I needed to camp and could find no holes in the walls for field camping. So we decided to camp on a dirt road, that led we knew not where, at some distance from the main road. It may have been near dark and we may have been looking for a long time. We had to sleep on the road because the fields were wet and muddy. We were awoken about six AM by a horse drawn wagon with two horses staring down on us. A farmer and his wife were sitting high up on the wagon seat reigns in hands, on a cart with milk jugs. They couldn't get by, again the fields so muddy. The Swedish girl and I jumped up in our underwear, I remember her blonde shoulder length hair, lithe light body, in light blue bra and panties, and began scrambling to move our stuff off the road, so they could get by. All was well until I tried to move the scooter which in my anxious and hurried freneticism tipped over with the engine roaring.
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