The story about the woman who drove a 1984 Chevy van called the Lard Car across the country, fueled by used french fry oil, stirred all kinds of memories within me.
Before they discovered that lard closed your arteries, I thought it was the most flavorful shortening around. Pie crust made from it was light and flaky, and my week wasn't complete as a kid until we drove out to the processing plant and got cracklings wrapped in newspaper soaking with grease. (Don't gasp and pass out; they were the forerunner of George Bush's pork rinds.)During World War II, we were asked to save our oil (including bacon fat) and turn it in to the government. I have no idea what the government did with it - maybe fed it to the enemy - but we all did it to win the war.
Today, lard is a four-letter word that is not used in front of the children - or even on television. I have a friend who still saves bacon grease to make popcorn, and it's the best stuff you ever put in your mouth. Native Americans use it to fry bread. You don't even think about it. It tastes so good, you just spread honey over it and experience nirvana.
It is not the first time vegetable or animal fat has been poured into fuel tanks. It's just that this is the first cross-country demonstration of recycled cooking-oil fuel. It figures that it would be something I like. Why not broccoli or rhubarb juice?
But what I really remember when I hear the word "lard" is my grandfather, who was probably one of the first to drive a Lardmobile. It was during the Depression years. He and my grandmother owned a small red coupe and bought gas for it 50 cents at a time. Grandma was a proud lady who hated to ride in a dusty car, so she told him to clean it up for a ride they were taking that afternoon.
Not having the money for a can of car wax, my grandfather substituted lard. The car shone like a silver dollar. As they were headed out to the country, the late afternoon sun melted the lard, making it smell like a meat-processing plant. The lard slid slowly down the fenders and eased down the windshield from the roof. As Grandma's elbow slid off the door, she snapped, "What did you use on this car?" When she discovered it was lard, she couldn't believe what she had married. No one noticed the lard when they reached their destination, as the dust of the road clung to the car like a magnet.
If Grandma were alive today and read about the Lard Car, she would say, "If the fool had put it in the tank instead of on the fenders, he'd have died rich!"