Quote:
Originally Posted by jonesy
..darn computer glitch..
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Well, since some have asked for updates on a previous thread I posted about my neighbors, here is an update. This one actually does not involve one of the elderly ladies, but the spouse of one.
The husband of elderly lady 'B' from the previous story is a fine english chap in his mid eighties. He was once a POW in Hong Kong, a story in which with typical English unflappability, he describes himself as a 'guest of the royal emprorer of Japan'
It was during that time that he contracted polio. Lately Elderly gent 'B' has had a relapse of polio symptems and has great difficulty walking (or moving his legs at all) Frankly his shoulder is pretty imobilized as well after last winters little fall.
Elderly gent B is the proud owner of a 1967 Chrysler Newport convertible with a monstrously large engine. His pride and joy, its no Morris Minor let me tell you.
He invites me to go for a ride now and then, to which I always find myself obliging. There is a certain element of adventure, excitement and downright fear during these excursions. Despite his ailments, the man still drives like a champ.
I watch him slowly, very agonizingly slow, make his way to the garage and work himself into the seat. The 440, 4 barrel monster roars to life and we're off!
At this point I begin alternately laughing out loud and praying for safety.
To be honest we don't go very far, in fact on one occasion we simply went from his back alley, around to the front of my house.
This last Sunday morning we ventured a little further. As we drove I explained that I would soon be late for church. Elderly gent 'B', a staunch athiest, yet ever polite chap seemed half amused and half empathetic. His foot pressed down a little more, the Chrylser roared forward. His plan was to drop me off, double time.
I glanced over and noticed that his trademark toupe was still tightly gripping his skull, even at our new speed. I have never had the moxy to ask him about it, but boy, it was hanging on for dear life in the wind.
As if he could read my mind, he spoke of a day when ladies would wear hats in church and men were to be bareheaded in church. He wondered aloud if he could ever go to church again since his toupe might be ruled as a hat.
As we rounded the final turn after a particularly harrowing manoever I heard him add 'boy I didn't think we were gonna make it'
Neither did I.
For the first time ever, he let me drive on the way home.
Caught between 2 ladies (new material)
