It was the summer of '82. I was visiting my sister's family in Alameda. We were all packed into my brother in law's VW Beetle, enjoying an afternoon drive through the winding hills down to Stetson Beach, just north of San Fran. Charlie was crooning 'Blue Eyes' to his baby daughter, Erin, just 9 months old at the time, when rather unexpectedly (isn't that the way it goes), she started pukin' up hotdog chunks. From that time on, I can't hear this song without getting carsick, and smelling hotdogs. Oh... Excuse me.