A funny clam story.
In a former life we owned a restaurant in the Poconos. A couple of times a summer I would go out to Long Island and visit a buddy out in Greenport and while there I would bring back bushels of chowder clams that I would get for $10/bushel. In my 1974 VW Superbeetle, I could fit 10 bushels, six in the back, three in the passenger compartment and one where the spare tire should be. I am guessing you are seeing where this is going.
On the way back, late one summer evening, or early in the AM depending on how you look at it. I am cruising along Rt. 80 in western New Jersey and FLAP FLAP FLAP, I get a flat. With no spare and no cell phone, this is 1983, I wait for a trooper. An hour and a few beers go by and a trooper stops. He calls a tow truck to bring a wheel/tire. The truck arrives and he was ready to put the tire on and said it was $50. $50 for a warn out tire on a rusted rim that I questioned if it would get me the additionl 60 miles home. I tried to negotiate and was not getting anywhere until I asked him if he liked clams.
At that point his eyes lit up. He asked are they steamers? Sure, I said. Keeping in mind that he was going to sell me a $15 tire for $50. If anyone ever tried to steal chowder clams, knows they will end up being as tough as that $15 ... er $50 tire. He mounted up the wheel, I put the flat tire where the spare should have been and high tailed it out there.
Every so often, like now, when I think back on this story, I wonder, if he is still chewing on those clams.