As I sat in the truck, my blood began
to boil.
Old? Me?
I'll show him, I
thought.
I opened the door and headed back
inside. I strode to the counter,
and there he was waiting with a
smile.
Before I could say a word, he held up something and jingled it in
front of me,
like I could be that easily
distracted!
What am I now?
A toddler?
"Dude! Can't get too far without your car
keys, eh?"
I stared with utter disdain at the
keys.
I began to rationalize in my
mind!
"Leaving keys behind hardly makes a man
elderly!
It could happen to
anyone!"
I turned and
headed back to the truck.
I slipped the key into the ignition,
but it wouldn't turn.
What now?
I checked my keys and tried
another.
Still nothing.
That's when I noticed
the purple beads hanging from my rear view
mirror.
I had no purple beads hanging from my rear view
mirror.
Then, a few other objects came into
focus:
The car seat in the back
seat.
Happy Meal toys spread all over the
floorboard.
A partially eaten dough nut on the
dashboard.
Faster than you can say ginkgo biloba, I flew out of the alien vehicle.
Moments later I was
speeding out of the parking lot,
relieved to finally be leaving this
nightmarish stop in my life.
That is when I felt it, deep in the
bowels of my stomach: hunger!
My stomach growled and churned, and I
reached to grab my taco,
only it was nowhere to be
found.
I swung the truck around, gathered my
courage,
and strode back into the restaurant one
final time.
There Elmo stood, draped in youth and
black nail polish.
All I could think
was, "What is the world coming
to?"
All I could say
was, "Did I leave my food and drink in
here"?
At this point I was ready to ask a Boy
Scout to help me back to my vehicle,
and then go straight home and apply for
Social Security benefits.
Elmo had no clue.
I walked back out to the
truck,
and suddenly a young lad came up and
tugged on my jeans to get my attention.
He was holding up a drink and a
bag.
His mother
explained,
"I think you left this in
my truck by mistake."
I took the food and drink from the
little boy and sheepishly apologized.
She offered these kind
words:
"It's OK. My grandfather does stuff like
this all the time."
All
of this is to explain how I got a ticket doing 85 in a 40 mph
zone.
Yessss, I was racing some punk kid in a Toyota
Prius.
And no, I told the
officer, I'm not too
old to be driving this fast.
As I
walked in the front door, my wife met me halfway down the
hall.
I handed her a bag of cold food and
a $300 speeding ticket.
I promptly sat in my rocking chair and covered up my
legs with a blankey.
The good news was that I had
successfully found my way home.
Pass this on to the other "old fogies"
on your list (so they can have fun
laughing, too).
No comments:
Post a Comment