Thursday, July 19, 2012

Little Red S-10

I grew up in a small town.  A town so small that my mother's boss once walked into my bank (where he was not a customer) and cashed a check for ME.  The teller gave him the cash because he knew that I was away at college and that my mom worked for him, and that I would eventually get the money.

A town so small that I could call a car dealership and speak to someone I have not seen for over 20 years and buy a used truck from him - over the phone.  Of course, my parents (who still live in that town) were able to take it for a test drive.  And the salesman told me the name of the previous owners - a couple who just celebrated their 90th birthdays!  I knew them, of course.  My dad actually visited them after the purchase to retrieve the extra set of keys for me.  They handed them over without hesitation.

I'm happy to have a little truck for yard work and rummage sale-ing.  And my kids are crossing their fingers that I may let them drive it to school this year.  And Rachel said, "A 1995?! That's older than me!" 

"So, treat it with respect," I replied.

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