On November 5, 1966, “Last Train to Clarksville” by The Monkees reached number one on the US Billboard Hot 100.
The song marked the band's first number-one hit and helped launch their career as one of the biggest pop acts of the 1960s. Released as their debut single, it featured the jangling guitar sound and catchy melodies that became synonymous with the group and remains one of their most recognisable songs.
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I loved this show

I was working on wiring in the garage remodel when I caught a whiff of exhaust like I haven't smelled in ages. My neighbor had just got his 1964 Chevy Malibu back from the shop after it had been sitting under a tarp in his back yard for longer than I had been living here. The engine looks new. Everything else is obviously original. Bench seats. Wing windows. Oh, the nostalgia. I'd feel sorry for the fool that ain't paying attention when they drive into it. Good old American steel.

Who remembers the brand of Tuna

“WE HAVEN'T SAID GRACE YET!”​

Mom caught Dad stealing a piece of Sunday roast before anyone had even sat down.

It was a cold, rainy Sunday evening in November 1970.

I was twelve years old, and my little sister Mary was nine.

The windows were fogged up from the warmth of the kitchen, and the whole house smelled like roast beef, potatoes, and homemade gravy.

Mom had been cooking since early afternoon.

The dining table was set with her good dishes.

Grandma Miller was sitting at the end of the table in her yellow sweater.

Grandpa was already eyeing the roasted potatoes.

And Dad?

Dad was supposed to be helping Mom carry the food.

Instead, he picked up the carving knife and quietly sliced himself a little piece of roast beef.

He thought nobody noticed.

Unfortunately, Grandma noticed EVERYTHING.

Just as Dad put the meat in his mouth, Mom walked in.

“WE HAVEN'T SAID GRACE YET!”

Dad froze.

Tommy and Mary started giggling.

Then Grandma leaned back in her chair and said:

“Oh, leave him alone. He was just checking if it was poisoned!”

Grandpa laughed so hard he nearly dropped his fork.

Mom tried to look upset, but even she started smiling.

Then Grandma looked across the table and caught Grandpa stealing a potato.

“HENRY! YOU TOO?”

That was our family.

Nobody could get through Sunday dinner without somebody getting into trouble.

I still remember the sound of rain against the windows, the warm gravy, the good dishes, and everybody talking over one another.

Those dinners weren't fancy.

But I'd give anything to sit around that table one more time.

NOW LOOK CLOSELY AT THIS SUNDAY DINNER IN 1970!

TWO things don't belong in 1970.

One is easy to spot.

The other is hiding among the things on the dinner table.

Can you find BOTH?

And tell me — who was always sneaking a taste of dinner before it was ready in your family?

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