The Decline Of Soda Contests

Does anybody remember when there was a contest with Mountain Dew where you could win a free 20oz bottle just by finding a winning cap? Now that was a deal. You’d just bring in your winning cap and come out with a Mountain Dew. Simple and effective, which of course meant that it wasn’t going to last long.

So it got cheaper. No longer could you win a free 20oz bottle. Instead, you’d get a “Buy 1 20oz Get 1 Free” cap. While definitely a downgrade, it was still a pretty good deal, although the only problem was you’d walk out with two sodas, even if you only wanted one.

True story: When I was working in Wisconsin, I’d occasionally have a friendly wager with one of my co-workers over the Packers/Lions games. However, during that time both teams weren’t very good, so neither he nor I had faith that our teams would win, and we didn't want to risk much. So, what we came up with was whoever lost had to buy a 20oz soda, and then using a Buy 1 Get 1 Free Cap that we already had, we’d get a free second and give it to the winner. This essentially meant that the deal was if you lost the best, you’d buy yourself a soda. Talk about your high rolling. (Note that I said it was a true story, and not necessarily entertaining or funny.)

Of course, the Buy 1 Get 1 Free deal has also ended. Now you get a code on the cap, which you’re supposed to enter on a website in order to have a chance to win prizes. Now I may be wrong, but this seems like a terrible idea. I’m assuming that once you register your code, along with an obligatory email address,, you’ll get spammed to the point of even if you won anything, it wouldn’t be worth it.

They even got rid of the NCAA basketball contest, where you’d get the name of a college under each cap, and if you got the eventual tournament winner, you’d get some sort of prize. This was always fun, mainly because you’d never get good teams, and instead teams with absolutely no chance of winning, like the Southwestern Idaho Fighting Porcupines or the North Central And A Little Bit Of Northwestern Kentucky Mighty Earthworms. At least I found it amusing. I’m not sure if anybody else did.

Anyway, the era of good soda contests is over, at least in my mind. It’s fallen by the wayside along with Airheads, which are now about a quarter of their original size and more expensive, and penny candy, which is really now fifteen cent candy.

Oh well. I probably shouldn’t be drinking soda anyway. It makes me jittery and keeps me up at night. Plus, Airheads are so chewy they’d probably pull out my fillings. And, now that I think about it, this topic will give me something good to complain about when I’m a crotchety old man, say in about ten years: “Why I remember when I was a kid, you used to be able to win a free bottle of pop, not like today, where you use your dang phones for everything and nobody remembers their manners and kids don’t respect their elders and – hey! Where are you going? I’m not finished!!”

So I should probably just go gnaw on some broccoli and quit living in the past, even though it's hard, since the past was so darn tasty. And inexpensive.

Challenging the Sandman

Just one more page.

Just one more page.

Just one more page.

At some point you realize you’re just kidding yourself. You’ve gotten to a point where you’re going to have to finish the book. It’s kind of like a rollercoaster, except with much less screaming and much less chance of throwing up. You began by buckling yourself into the seat of commitment, followed by the slow climb of character and story development, and now you’ve just gone over the tipping point of setup vs. payoff and are hurtling down the steep incline of extreme reader satisfaction, powered by the gravity of plot resolution, hoping desperately that you don’t hit a rough patch of cliché storytelling that upsets your stomach of enjoyment and ruins the entire ride.

Unfortunately, it’s late. Much too late. Tomorrow morning is coming soon, and the longer you stay awake the worse it’s going to be. However, it’s not like you really have a say in the matter. You are physically unable to put the book down.

So you keep reading, the final chapters falling away before your ravenous eyes. The real world is quiet and dark, illuminated only by a single bed lamp, but the world you’re immersed in is bright and alive and exciting and full of plot twists that aren't so contrived that they make you roll your eyes.

Ah! Oh! Holy crap! He wouldn’t! He did! How could he! Now what? Now what? Oh! I see! Ha ha! That’s great!

Then suddenly it’s over. A bittersweet moment, indeed.

You slowly put the book down, stare up at the ceiling, and just soak it all in for a while. Then you remember tomorrow is almost here, so you reach out and turn off the light. You are definitely going to pay for this. There’s absolutely no question about it.

The next morning you’re downing coffee at an astounding rate. You’re moving about in a fog, and even though thinking is still technically possible, comprehending is a much tougher challenge. Your eyelids are drooping, and mumbling is as articulate as you can be. Basically, you fought the Sandman, and he dropkicked you down a flight of steps. Still, it was worth it. It’s not often you find books like that, so when you do, you enjoy it and to heck with the consequences.

And maybe there’s a sequel. But only after you get some sleep.

On Winter Driving

Well, what little snow there was in the cities is now quickly melting, thanks to sixty degree temperatures in March. Not that I’m complaining. It’s just got me thinking.

I haven’t lived in the U.P. for a long time, and ever since then I’ve been treated to the easy winters, at least in terms of snow accumulation, of Wisconsin and Minnesota. This has come with a price, however, and it’s the degradation of my winter driving skills.

When I was in Michigan, I could drive in anything. Blinding snowstorms? Check. Behind cars whose owners didn’t bother to clean off their roofs, thus causing a mini blinding snowstorm behind it? Check. Through the aftermaths of blinding snowstorms, where your bumper was pushing snow and if you stopped you were never going to get started again? Check. No big deal. Heck, sometimes the hardest part of the winter was figuring out which lump of snow your car was parked under after a blinding snowstorm.

But now I’m here in Minnesota, and I’ll admit that my winter driving skills have dulled some. It’s like a muscle, if you don’t use it, you lose it. I am proud to report, however, that I still remember a thing or two. Driving to and from Michigan Tech a half hour each way over a four year period when winter takes up 90 percent of the school year isn’t something you just forget. Take, for example, the first snow of the year in Wisconsin or Minnesota, which is always comical. This is when about half of the cars go in the ditch, and the other half crawl about in the right lane at 4 miles an hour, their drivers wide eyed and white knuckled. I however, relying on my veteran experience, just laugh as I fly by them all in the right lane, going 6 miles an hour, my knuckles still their normal color for the most part. It’s not much, but I guess it’s something.

I blame part of my degradation on my car. It’s fairly new, which means it’s made of all plastic, which means its lighter, which means instead of actually going through the snow, it pretty much floats along top of it, going in whatever direction it feels like, which does not necessarily correspond to the direction that the tires are turned. (I can complain all I want about the old cars I drove in Michigan, but they could at least handle the snow, what being weighed down by all that rust.)

Overall, I guess I’m not too concerned. If I ever move back to the U.P., I’ll just purchase some gigantic gas guzzler of a vehicle that weighs about the same as three of my current cars put together and I’ll be fine. Plus, with technology progressing the way it has, I’ll probably be able to always work from home anyway.