I was lounging around the automotive glass shop (yet again) reading my dog-eared copy of Callahan’s Crosstime Saloon to pass the time when she struck up the conversation. I must admit I admired the view a bit before I replied.
She sat and we chatted a bit…a very friendly sort. After books, auto glass and tornadoes were the natural subject given the setting and recent events. Both are on a lot of folks minds nowadays. She took a 2×4 through the windshield. Fortunately the car wasn’t occupied at the time.
After a few minutes the shop guys called me back to show me why Little Rivet’s cab was filling up with water in the heavy rains (hint: It wasn’t the windshield this time).
Remember the old drunk driving commercials where the car is full of beer? Yeah, it’s like that…except it’s not beer…it’s water…or maybe Budweiser.
Anyway, I left my book and coat sitting in my chair. When I got back she was reading it. “Sorry…” she said while handing it back and blushing. “That’s pretty good. I’m surprised I’ve not heard of him. When did that come out?”
“I got that copy in the 1980 or so.”
“Really?! That’s ten years before I was born!”
I blinked. Just her manner of speaking had me assuming she was about my age. Now that I thought about it and actually paid attention to the ur…quality…of the obvious visual queues…nope…she was quite apparently younger than me.
By about TWENTY-FIVE years.
Cripes. When did I go and get OLD?
It took me a disturbingly long time to realize she was flirting with me. It was hours…in fact…after I left the shop…and I wouldn’t have “realized” it even then…except the card with her number and a cheerful, “Call me!” scribbled on it fell out of my book.
I chuckled and tossed the card.
Damn damn damn damn…
Old. Yep. When the hell did that happen?
I’ll see you on the road.