yesterday. Unlike the vision of a lawyer, I don't have a really nifty sportscar or something and I don't want one either. My daily driver is 27 years old. My regular truck is, as noted, a large one ton diesel with over 200,000 miles on it.
It's beginning to get a rust problem.
And I don't care that some of my colleagues are totally baffled why I don't buy something newer. At age 61, one year younger than my father was when he died, and being in two occupations, one of which is high stress, I don't plan on really making it long enough for any new vehicles to make sense. Besides that, I like what I like, and I like standard transmissions.
I had to get diesel fuel before I came back. In thinking about it, it's not every day you see a guy dressed in wool dress pants, white shirt, and tie, filling up a large ranch truck type truck.
Anyhow, a man pulled up next to me as the gas station driving a very nice car licensed in Oregon. He rolled down his window and spoke to me in a thick Arab accent. My hearing isn't great, so I had to have him repeat his question, which he did.
He was asking for gas money, he said, and pulled off two large gold rings and offered them to me.
That was weird, I don't carry cash anymore, and it was a bit too weird for me to say "yes".
I've never had an experience like that one before.
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