It was nearly midnight and I was sitting out on my front step enjoying the balmy weather. We’re just starting to get some summery nights.
A neighbor who lives up the street from me wandered by and we got to talking. Wayne is younger than I am but he’s old enough to have some good stories.
I told him about my spare tire being stolen from the bed of my Ford pick-up truck. I also told him that I had to pay fifty bucks for a replacement.
“Oh, man, you shoulda come to me! I know this guy near La Grange who has a junkyard — he’s my dad’s best friend. He woulda sold you a spare for twenty bucks!”
“Well, I didn’t know about him, and I haveta have a spare, after all.”
“This guy is a bit peculiar, though. A few years ago he was walking with a fishing pole and the hook got embedded in his eye. He lost his vision in that eye, and if you talk with him, you can’t look at that eye or he gets mad. You need to look at his chest or really anywhere but that eye.”
“This guy is somewhere between sixty and seventy. He’s suspicious of people he doesn’t know and he’s liable to shoot them with a .30-30 rifle. He’s shot about eight people so far; he calls 911 and the La Grange police will send an officer out to take the latest victim to the hospital. The guy’s a good shot and only inflicts grazing wounds.”
“Gosh, I do like a good deal on auto parts, but I don’t want to get shot at!”
“I’ll go out there with you sometime and introduce you. If he knows you’re a friend of mine you’ll be cool!”