George was standing at the edge of his carport when I pulled into my driveway this afternoon.
“I love your new car,” he said he wanted to tell me. “How many miles did you say it had on it?”
“It has around 42,000 miles on the clock,” I told George.
“Mine has 97,000 on the clock,” George said. “I am afraid it will be the last car I will ever own.”
Well, that was awful sanguine and morbid I thought of George’s comment.
“Honda’s are a good, reliable car,” he then told me.
“Come on over and have a beer with me and let’s sit on the carport and talk,” George urged me pointing to the two chairs in the corner.
I know George has to get so lonesome as he never gets any visitors and he had imbibed a few beers and was very chatty as well. Oh, how I wanted nothing more than to sit with George, have a few Miller High Life beers, and shoot the shit as we say in the South.
“I have lunch cooking on the stove,” I replied to George with a weak and a lack of a better excuse.
That George is going to be the death of me yet before long.
“It is always good talking to you George,” I told him sincerely and then bid him adieu and escaped inside my humble abode.
2 comments:
Sir:
I think you really should go hang out with George, sir. You do not have to drink if you do not want to. But, I sincerely think having a friend who is not a family member would be very good for you.
PipeTobacco
As long as you have a can in your hand, he won't need to offer. Just grab a coke and go chat the old boy up! I am the same way, minus beer. No one comes by to chat, if they do, they are "mining" for info. Can't trust anyone!
And sadly, I think my Ford will be my last car. I don't drive anymore so it's for toting me around.....
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