[A bones]

For the record, in 1950 as a 2 year old, I was sleeping in the back seat of a Tudor 'A' unknown year. A car ran a stop sign on a South Jersey road. My mother kissed the windshield and her seat flipped forward. I slid beneath the seat but was saved from her flopping back on top of me by a crate of eggs.
To this day I still like eggs.