MODERN LIVING: Those Rush-Hour Blues

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Along the eight-lane highways that stretch forth like tentacles from San Francisco, it was the time of day that tries men's carburetors: the evening rush hour. Everyone wanted to get home at once. Trapped in a snarling, bumper-to-bumper tie-up, Salesman Bink Beckmann reacted with unusual calm; he had a unique way of keeping his blood pressure down. On a tiny slip of paper he scrawled, "Hold dinner; traffic tie-up"; then he reached behind him into a cage, seconds later sent a homing pigeon fluttering out of the car window. A pigeon fancier, Beckmann carries eight pigeons on his...

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