Yesterday we walked to Sunny’s, the only convenience store near the middle of town (though there’s another on the edge), and there was an olive drab 1968 Cougar just pulling to the curb. The man that stepped out, and walked into the store, was in a pair of chinos and a polo shirt and had a bigger bald spot than I do.
I like chinos. Polo shirts are comfortable. Don’t judge me!
Rix, good boy that he is, was okay with being tied to a lottery sign on the sidewalk when I went in, and when I did I said to the guy as he picked his scratch tickets, “Nice car. Too bad it’s not a Mustang.”
He didn’t flinch, at least not in the way I’d expect him to. He smiled slightly and said, “Those things are everywhere. You don’t see to many of these around.”
And I could not argue with that.
