Mother was laughing when I picked her up at the tire store this morning, after a conversation with a grumpy old man. She’d admired his luxury cherry-red sedan.
“I don’t like this car. I had me a real nice big pick up rigged out just like I wanted it, then in 2014, the doctor said I had cancer and probably wouldn’t make it six months. Well, my ol’lady didn’t want to have to drive that truck after I was gone, so she talked me into tradin’ it in on this car. I figured it didn’t matter none, since I wasn’t gonna be driving it no way.
Well, next time I went back to the doctor, he said I didn’t have cancer after all. Now I’m stuck with this danged car.”