General Lee speaking...

Sounds can be so evocative.  Sounds from childhood that are re-heard can instantaneously transport a person back through their memories to a time when the ice-cream van music mattered, when the theme tune from Dr. Who made you clutch a cushion, or when the music that introduced the Radio 1 Chart Show signalled both the nearing end of the weekend and a chance to listen to the latest pop tunage..

And so it was yesterday, as I was walking home from a meeting, that I experienced one of these transportations back  through my own memories.  It could have been a sound similar to the babbling icy-cold stream that used to run through our garden in Yorkshire.  It could have been the throbbing throaty sound of our old Mini when the exhaust was on its last legs.  It could even have been the sound of an oboe, the instrument that I first "learned" (and then later "hated") to play.

But no. It wasn't any of these things.  It was the sound of the General Lee. 

Not only that, but it was the sound of the General Lee, missing a few notes and therefore not quite right.  A sort of "Name That Tune" version of it.
And it wasn't attached to anything resembling a 1969 Dodge Charger either - that was confirmed at first glance.  Looking across at the driver of the vehicle, I also noticed that there was no way on earth that he'd be sliding in and out of the windows any time soon, a la Bo and Luke Duke. 
Not without a lot of lubrication, a winch and a bunch of willing helpers, anyway.

And so it was that a small catering van arrived at the offices that I passed on my walk.  Announcing itself like it had just evaded the clutches of Boss Hogg and Rosco P. Coltrane (and Flash), doing an unfathomable stunt jump over a gorge in the process with a customary "Yee-hah!".  When, in fact, it had simply taken a left turn off the main road and passed between the gates of the car park and now was ready, willing and able to provide sandwiches, soup and assorted beverages to a captive audience of office workers.