My dad has a lot of good stories. Here’s one of them:
In 1966 I was in my high school band. We used to have marching rehearsal on Saturday mornings and halfway through my friends and I would take our break and go out to lunch. This particular Saturday we went to a sub-shop.
As a 16 year old, my pallet was not yet mature. So I went in an ordered an Italian Sub. Now, keep in mind, my mother wasn’t Italian. So at home we never really had Italian food.
mike d: What did Grandma typically make for dinner?
well, a typical meal was meat, potatos, and green beans. She had a great recipe for scalloped potatos. Never Italian food though. In fact, ironically, I don’t think I really got a taste of Garlic until I married your polish mother.
Anyway, the guy behind the counter asks me what I’d like and I ordered my Italian Sub.
He asked me “You want peppers?”
“Sure!” I said.
“Are you sure you like peppers?”
“Sure, load ’em on.”
“You want a lot of peppers?”
“Load it up.”So he packed that sub so it was bursting with peppers. Bursting with peppers. But these weren’t normal peppers, these were HOT peppers. After I ate that thing my stomach and digestive track were SMOKIN’! I spent the rest of the day marching around the field with my insides burning up.
Sounds like THE DIESEL