Aaat Laaast! You’ve heard it a thousand times, probably in the background of a jewelry commercial where some rich lady’s self-worth is confirmed by the receipt of a humongous diamond necklace. There’s the string section swell followed by the dusky croon of relief from Etta James that her lovelorn days are finally over. It is an earworm of the first order.
I would not abandon my children for Bonci pizza. To be honest I wouldn’t abandon anyone’s children for any pizza.
Jonathan Goldsmith’s pizza makes grown men cry. A few years ago, the owner of Spacca Napoli in Ravenswood got his mozzarella provider to sit down and try one of his Neapolitan pies. Of the experience, the provider wrote: “When I bit into it, it put tears into my eyes and I couldn’t help it. For the first time, food meant something much more to me than just curbing my appetite. In a fraction of a second, the best memories of my Neapolitan life went through my mind.”
There was a time when Camaros were bitchin’ and neon was a primary color. If you didn’t live through that era, maybe you’ve seen the movie “Hot Tub Time Machine.” If neither of these things is true, there’s still a good chance you love Prince or Madonna and you have a thing for Shia LaBeouf’s “Transformers” work or Michael Bay’s “Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.” Without Pac-Man, there probably wouldn’t be an XBox or a PlayStation. Though the 1980s don’t have the same charm as the 1920s (think flappers and bathtub gin), the decade is responsible for some great things.
Blame it on a motorcycle. A 1972 Triumph Bonneville, to be exact. Tired of taking it to numerous gas-station mechanics to be fixed, marine engineer Robert Garvey took the bike apart—all the way down to the very last bolt—so he could understand how the thing worked. He put it back together and then drove the bike cross-country to visit an old friend in Colorado.