![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl3MneRtPdGNlLJD34xP9AcBmAY0dnjDR7UCbns18BKMFVhnvpVRJ4WK9XPTwgzxqw2CpC68OzzkwJ_11ignYSoPxSwsm9RCLc4GridtScb5AhIViaTAof4_KH3_adaBV1A_WDRAv-Nv4/s320/MilkWagon.png)
Sherman, set the WABAC machine for 1940—we’re going to Lubbock, Texas to ride in a horse-drawn milk truck and inhale a long-lost aroma.
Wilkerson remembered there was a unique fragrance, perhaps of fresh cream, about the milk wagons.
“It was not a bad smell. I can still kind of smell that after all these years,” he said.
Plus, the horses learned the delivery route and would pull ahead to the next house on their own . . .
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