The Origin of "Pringles"

I had coffee and conversation with a friend at Panera in Finneytown this week. Finneytown is one of the north-of-Cincinnati residential areas that I have passed through frequently on the bus or in the car as we go into downtown Cincinnati by way of Winton Road.  Though I have thousands of hours of commuting time in all sorts of weather and road conditions under my belt, those days are past, and I am no longer an adventurous driver. Nevertheless I felt perfectly comfortable driving there by myself in the middle of a sunny afternoon, and I arrived early, as I usually do, since I don't really believe that you can get "everywhere" in Cincinnati in about a half hour, and always allow more time. I am wrong more often than I am right--it almost always takes less time than I allow.

We were in my friend's neighborhood, and after we talked, I offered to drive her home. I was watching carefully where I was going, so I could get back again, and after we made a couple turns I noticed the sign for Pringle Drive, though that was not where we were headed. Then she remarked casually that Pringles were named after this road! Oh, that's where the inventor lived? I asked. No, but the product manager at P&G who was working on their potato chip product back in the '60s happened to live in this general area, before the new product with the innovative shape and container was named. He and a colleague or two car-pooled, and as he passed one day he noticed the name of the street and thought it was catchy. Neither he nor any other Pringles associate actually lived on Pringle Drive, but the street is forever enshrined because its name caught his eye and his imagination.

Pringles, which I have seen in numerous countries throughout the world, is one of the hundreds of consumer brands that I recognized as a Procter & Gamble (P&G) product even before I came to Cincinnati. But it turns out that my recognition is outdated. Since I moved here and read The Enquirer I have been aware that P&G is downsizing, selling off tons of its brands. They sold Pringles in 2012 and it is now owned by Kellogg.

The Wikipedia article about Pringles gives a good history of the "potato snack," as it is now called, and speculates--but without this exact story--about its name. I like this one.

Two-Car Family

Nothing makes me feel more American than the fact that we have once again become a two-car family. Two cars for two people. During most--but not all--of our working life in New England, we had two cars and set off for work in different directions and on different schedules. But when we moved from New England, with one of us retired and one working at home, we downsized to one car.

It's hard to believe that we existed for a good five years with no car at all. That was in Spain, when we lived in an apartment on the main street of Roquetas de Mar, with a bus stop outside the door and within four or five blocks of the sea-side promenade.  We walked; we biked; we took the bus to the nearby city of Almería; we depended only occasionally on the kindness of friends to drive us to an event; and we occasionally rented a car when we wanted to go farther afield. We were in much better shape physically than we are now.

Five years later, but still in Spain, we were in the process of moving farther to the east and northward up the Mediterranean coat to the Torrevieja area in Alicante province. It was a minimum three-hour car trip (without stops) between the two areas, and it took us almost a year to explore the new area, decide on a new house, sell our apartment, and get settled. Even before we chose the exact house we eventually moved into, we knew we were going to need a car, because everything was so much more spread out in the Torrevieja environs than it was in Roquetas. We bought a "new" used car from Goldcar, the company we had used for renting umpteen cars to go back and forth. It was a silver-gray Ford Fusion, German-made but American-branded, the first American car I had personally ever owned. Throughout our life in the U.S., we had been regulars with Volvos and Toyotas after my husband gave up on the blue Camaro convertible my father had encouraged him to purchase in 1967 "because he knew Susanne would like it."

The house that we moved into in Algorfa, near Torrevieja, was within a five-minute drive of everything you would ever need on a daily basis, and a good deal more. It was within walking distance of nothing, however, unless you counted the Sunday outdoor market (but you would die of gas fumes walking along the road to the market because of the hundreds of cars that came from longer distances). And so when our good bikes were stolen we did not replace them, and we got used to driving the short distances to shopping and entertainment together, or occasionally as a single, but only a couple times did we ever have a conflict when one of us wanted to be in one place at the same time that the other wanted to be in a different place. It worked for our semi-retired, active, but joint life in Spain.

We bought a car here even before we moved back permanently to the U.S., because we knew we were going to move, and we knew we would need one. The used Avalon sat in a rented storage area for the last six months we were in Spain. Now we are permanently and fully back home in the U.S., in a condo where I, at least,  can actually walk to drugstores, the hairdresser, restaurants, a liquor store, and various other establishments (but not a good supermarket), and where there is a a bus stop outside the door that takes you into the city. Our activities have changed, though. We still go to a number of social events together, shopping, and medical appointments. But we have added adult-ed classes, a book group, and meetings with other painters and writers. During the spring session of the OLLI adult-ed classes, I gave up two desired classes because we could not coordinate the drive schedule. And if I go off for a lengthy book group and luncheon meeting with the car, Johannes feels cooped up not being able to drive ten minutes to Lowe's or the frame store or somewhere else to work on a project.

Johannes has always said that his next car would be an electric car, so off we went a month ago to look at a used all-electric car. We test-drove it and agreed to think it over. But we failed to pass by a Toyota dealer on the right side of the street on the way home without stopping to look, so several hours later we found ourselves the new owners of a used Prius, which is partially electric.

The Prius is now sharing space with the Avalon in what used to be a comfortably open double garage with one car and a lot of side space. Now it is cramped and we have to be careful how much we are carrying when we get into or out of the car--either one of them. The Avalon has become somewhat neglected, since the Prius gets twice the miles-per-gallon that the Avalon gets and suits almost all our driving needs. Only twice, I believe, have both cars been out of the garage at the same time. I don't think we are driving any more--in fact, maybe less, since we no longer have to make some contorted trips to accommodate two passengers in two different places. The OLLI schedule will come out in a couple weeks, and I am happy that I can choose what I want without worrying about whether Johannes will choose a course at the same time at another location.

I do, however, have to worry about which car my sun-glasses and a/c sweater are in, where the library books and reusable grocery bags are, and whether I have the right keys for the right car at the right time. And then there is the matter of the garage door opener, of which we inherited only one when we bought the house. I am sure we can buy a second, but then we would have to program it!

There is always a price to pay.