In August of 1950, when I was just a little tyke and my sister Laura but a babe in arms, our family set out in our 1947 Kaiser from Princeton, New Jersey, for parts West. We were moving out to California so that my dad could take up a new position in physics at the almost-unknown institution named Leland Stanford Jr. University. En route, we passed through many states and innumerable gas stations. I loved the smell of gasoline when we filled up, and was fascinated by the logos of the many different brands of gas. One day, as we were passing through Ohio, my dad pointed at the sign of the Standard Oil of Ohio station where we had stopped: He offhandedly commented that if you twisted your head around, you could read it upside down. He even said it out loud: 'Oy-hose.' What a silly-sounding, meaningless word! I practically split my sides. 'OIHOS' was the funniest thing my 5-year-old self had ever heard. It was also the first ambigram I had ever seen. Well, actually, it wasn't a true...
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