Until I was ten my parents used laundromats.
We lived one place that had a wringer washing machine and we hung our clothes on the line until cold temperatures came. Then we trudged back to the dependable Coin-O-Matic.
One night we loaded our freshly cleaned, dry, folded clothes into the back seat where my little brother and I sat. In a few minutes something started stinking. The usual questions were asked and denied. It was a very weird smell.
"Mom," I said, "I think there's smoke coming out of our clothes."
"Smoke?" she turned around. "Oh Wayne, stop the car! There's SMOKE coming out of our clothes!" my mom echoed in a panic.
Dad pulled our old car off to the side of the street and quickly jumped out. When he reached inside, he dug down into the basket (brave man) and pulled out a smouldering bathroom rug. The rubber backing was burning! We learned not to put anything rubber in those big ol' HOT commercial driers again.
When I look at a bathroom rug, I still think of that evening when we were smokin'!
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