It all began in 1927, a simpler time when America began its romance with both the automobile and its roadways.  Many of us remember the fundamental unadorned two-lane byways which we, not knowing any better, thought were super highways.  And a drive from Austin to a distant place like Des Moines m ade us feel like we were circumventing the globe. Hands down, the Model T Ford was king. But waiting in the wings was the new Model A, a foxy little number with “extras.” There was great excitement on the day the swanky new marvel was unveiled as thousands of expectant Americans queued up outside showrooms to get their first peek. The “A” came with such finery as windshield wings and four-wheel brakes, and it had a racy gearshift sprouting from the floor.  The Model A also came in colors, a dramatic step up from the previous all black Model T’s. In those days, the complex art of overtaking and passing another car was a risky endeavor sure to straighten the hairs of everyone involved.  This was especially hazardous because the narrow roads were full of curves as they followed the lay of the land as well as the parsimonious calculations of the highway department.  Road conditions were questionable at best, making it necessary for every car to have an elaborate roadside repair kit that was geared especially for the tires which regularly went flat. Virtually every outing was a challenge to see if the tires would hold out for the duration of the trip.  And do not forget the snow factor which surely killed any desire to drive during winter.  Think about it.  Did you ever see a Model T with an attached snowplow? In the absence of roadside restaurants, lunch was often a picnic spread out on a tablecloth in a farm field.  Eventually, to accommodate long distance travelers, $2-a-night roadside cabins appeared, their perimeters often bordered with white-washed rocks.  Basic as they were, these snappy modern shelters were worlds more convenient than leaving the “highway” in search of a Main Street hotel which was invariably expensive.  Hotels also required a necktie! As time went by, a desire for casualness while driving demanded a more relaxed dress code.  These fashions became known as sports clothes.  I’ll wager a bet, however, that the women continued to wear their long-line Warners girdles as they were unable to risk having any part of their mid-sections jiggle. While all this was evolving—and completely unrelated—Leonard Odell, an enterprising man from Minneapolis, was concocting a liniment that he claimed would cure all of America’s aches and pains. Impressively potent in both action and smell, his neighbors on the apartment ground floor could attest to it odoriferousness when Leonard mixed up a batch on the fifth floor! Ambitious Leonard was a relentless, hard driving businessman.  In fact, too hard.  His excessive labor resulted in debilitating rheumatism, begging the question of where was his almighty potion in all of this pain?  So severe was it that it took three years to get his health restored. One day Leonard’s aunt burned her hand in hot oil.  In desperation, she grabbed the only thing her medicine cabinet contained … Leonard’s ointment.  Within minutes of her slathering it on the burn, the blisters vanished, the pain stopped and later no scars developed.  The stuff truly was an inexplicable, freakish wonder! This, naturally, fired Leonard to not only make more, but also to come up with a name.  Because the essential oils for his magic formula came from the jungles of Burma, he decided to call it Burma Vita.  (And now you may guess where I’m going with this.) But despite his enthusiasm, sales of the specialty liniment remained slow.  What he needed, Leonard philosophized, was another product; one that folks would use regularly instead of only when they were grievously afflicted. Meanwhile in far off England, a brushless shaving cream had been developed.  It was, however, hopelessly gummy, a far cry from being a success. Leonard could nonetheless see its promise.  He could imagine how convenient it would be to never again have to pack a wet shaving brush in his grip where it invariably became foul smelling and moldy.  So, overnight, he hired a chemist to work on a few formula. The first mixture was terrible.  Unrelenting, it was not until they got to formula No. 143 that things improved.   That is when Leonard discovered that if he aged the cream for 2-3 months, he got a fine shave with it.  The time had arrived to start selling! Borrowing an idea from a gas station he had once seen where they lined up small advertising signs along the road, he bought a bunch of secondhand, nail-holed boards that had been burned on one side.  Undeterred, he cut them into 36” lengths and painted them using a thin brass stencil and brush. He then selected two major roads for his trial run—Route 65 from Minneapolis to Albert Lea and the road to Red Wing.  But winter was approaching and he had to hurry like the dickens to get them into the freezing ground.  The first set was anything but entertaining: SHAVE THE MODERN WAY / FINE FOR THE SKIN / DRUGGISTS HAVE IT / BURMA SHAVE.  Still, Leonard was on his way. Many of us can remember back to the challenge of spotting the eventually charming signs, then reading them aloud as fast as we could as our dads sped down the road. HE PLAYED A SAX / HAD NO B.O. / BUT HIS WHISKERS SCRATCHED / SO SHE LET HIM GO.  Or … MY JOB IS / KEEPING FACES CLEAN / AND KNOWS / DE STUBBLE I’VE SEEN.  Or … SHE KISSED THE HAIRBRUSH / BY MISTAKE  / SHE THOUGHT IT WAS / HER HUSBAND JAKE. Travelers quickly became addicted to the folksy humor as suspense built up to the final line:  PITY ALL THE MIGHTY CAESARS / THEY PULLED / EACH WHISKER OUT / WITH DREADED TWEEZERS.   Or … THE BEARDED LADY / TRIED A JAR / SHE’S NOW / A FAMOUS MOVIE STAR.  And my personal favorite: BENEATH THIS STONE / LIES ELMER GUSH / TICKLED TO DEATH / BY HIS SHAVING BRUSH. These jaunty little road signs, utterly void of any spiteful meanness, were a delightful piece of our American past.  Perhaps it’s just me, but I’m thinking we could use the innocence of their homey homilies right about now. 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