Despite my good intentions to share some significant historical observations from last week’s tour of the Studebaker Museum in South Bend, Ind., I must hold the press on this to discuss the recent reminders experienced first hand of sharing a bathroom with three women.

Maybe the children should leave the room on this.

For the last two weeks, I have had the pleasure of reacquainting myself with the frustrations our dad had sharing a solitary Midwest bathroom with a wife and three kids.

Poor Dad would spend five nights and days on the road selling motor oil, driving from garage to garage in distant places, but always staying in a motel or hotel alone, with a bathroom, unshared.

Then he’d come home to us and no towels.

Maybe that’s the end of the rainbow.

When sharing a bathroom with anyone, male or female, it has been my experience that things change.

Detail is not needed here as we all know what we know is the bottom line of this subject.

Just as we all do in public restrooms, cleaning up after others before we clean up after ourselves, is about as disgusting as it gets, particularly on public transportation such as planes, trains and Continental Trailways buses.

Is Continental Trailways still bussing?

What a way to travel.

I recall not being allowed to get out of the bus once in Louisville because gun shots were being exchanged instead of baggage.

As you know, taking a shower in a bathroom traditionalized by “Does anyone need the bathroom? I’m going to take my bath now” is not easy.

Do I still put the shower curtain liner on the inside of the tub?

What about the few hairs that I have left that are now, post showered, trying to liberate themselves via a drain through a plastic filter shaped like a flower?

Instead of gendered bathroom etiquette, maybe I should discuss my feeling last week viewing President Lincoln’s horse-drawn carriage that he and the first lady rode in on their final trip together to the theatre.

Or maybe, I need to discuss a letter that I received upon my return that was addressed to a Reverend Freeman.

This colorful envelope, sent by Arbitron ratings people, notifies the Rev. that cash is on the way so five members of his family will report their daily radio listening.

First I will have to find a family with five members.

My family abandoned me shortly after my notary public license expired.

In other words, the next time you have an opportunity to sleep on another’s living room floor, find out first how many women are actually in the building and, of course, when they need the bathroom.

I have discovered that no matter the time zone, 5:30 in the morning is pretty safe to turn on the bathroom light without scaring anyone.

Just don’t turn on the ceiling fan.