Something strange was afoot at the local Circle K. I was grabbing a bag of baked potato chips when I saw some geezer, pumping gas; the high octane version that nobody uses. Well, nobody except single ex-spouses, who are using their newfound, post-divorce money to fill their G wagons so that they can spend 10 hours on a clogged highway getting out of harms way for that hurricane that they’d been warned about.The owners manual told them to fill up with high octane so they do it because they don’t want to ruin the warranty. They don’t drive the back roads though because they don’t know how to handle all of the capabilities of the machine they’re driving. A shame. Should be a crime.
Back to the geezer. He’s filling his car and it’s a seven seat defender. I walked over knowing that he was an ex military man and say- nice wheels. This gives him pause and he pulls his Ray-Bans down and says what do you know about that? I said not much but there seems to be a breeze in the air and I need a ride, mind if I hitch one? The nozzle taps out and he pushes his glasses back up and says- sure hop in.
He lets me eat my chips in his car and I’m scared to death that I’m gonna leave a crumb that can’t be hidden in his stitching. It’s a one chip at a time, kind of journey.
So the car is a natural bridge to conversations about dangerous situations and I ask him why the defender? knowing full well that’s a dumb question. He says he’ll evacuate when the time is right and he knows he’s prepared. That’s all I get but that’s enough.
He knows I recognize him so I go straight for it. I say, you ever own a Vette? He says yeah, but I only think about that at 6:01 AM? Usually Tuesdays through Thursdays, and Labor Day weekend is coming up. Extra traffic you know, and now he glances at me with a wry smile.
He tells me all those tourists will be heading home. Some parents are in Florida dropping the kids off at college, others are heading back up north to get the little ones in school after the holiday and all those people who put in the hours to afford a G wagon that isn’t theirs are at their desks, fully focused and looking for places to park their money.
I said so are you talking about September 2 through September 4? He says something like that. They’re looking for news. Next week is a distraction. Lines are long at the retail stores and they’re making a killing on No. 2 pencils and Bob Marley posters for the dorms.
Then he gets to it. Me? I’m also looking to park my money. And the days and weeks after Labor Day are perfect for a little announcement that tells me where do I put my money to get me that ‘63 split window that I’ve dreamt about since I was eight.
Now it’s my turn. I start talking about biotech investments, CYDY, the struggles we’ve been through as investors, the long runway, and the patients that need this medicine and the promise that the molecule holds. My driver doesn’t give anything up. He just nods knowingly in approval..
We get to my house and he says nice Subaru. I’m embarrassed and I say it was a company car, but it gets me places and they can handle the conditions I hope. He knows that but doesn’t say anything.
I shake his hand, scan for stray crumbs on the seat and say hey Tony, thanks for the ride.
Back to the geezer. He’s filling his car and it’s a seven seat defender. I walked over knowing that he was an ex military man and say- nice wheels. This gives him pause and he pulls his Ray-Bans down and says what do you know about that? I said not much but there seems to be a breeze in the air and I need a ride, mind if I hitch one? The nozzle taps out and he pushes his glasses back up and says- sure hop in.
He lets me eat my chips in his car and I’m scared to death that I’m gonna leave a crumb that can’t be hidden in his stitching. It’s a one chip at a time, kind of journey.
So the car is a natural bridge to conversations about dangerous situations and I ask him why the defender? knowing full well that’s a dumb question. He says he’ll evacuate when the time is right and he knows he’s prepared. That’s all I get but that’s enough.
He knows I recognize him so I go straight for it. I say, you ever own a Vette? He says yeah, but I only think about that at 6:01 AM? Usually Tuesdays through Thursdays, and Labor Day weekend is coming up. Extra traffic you know, and now he glances at me with a wry smile.
He tells me all those tourists will be heading home. Some parents are in Florida dropping the kids off at college, others are heading back up north to get the little ones in school after the holiday and all those people who put in the hours to afford a G wagon that isn’t theirs are at their desks, fully focused and looking for places to park their money.
I said so are you talking about September 2 through September 4? He says something like that. They’re looking for news. Next week is a distraction. Lines are long at the retail stores and they’re making a killing on No. 2 pencils and Bob Marley posters for the dorms.
Then he gets to it. Me? I’m also looking to park my money. And the days and weeks after Labor Day are perfect for a little announcement that tells me where do I put my money to get me that ‘63 split window that I’ve dreamt about since I was eight.
Now it’s my turn. I start talking about biotech investments, CYDY, the struggles we’ve been through as investors, the long runway, and the patients that need this medicine and the promise that the molecule holds. My driver doesn’t give anything up. He just nods knowingly in approval..
We get to my house and he says nice Subaru. I’m embarrassed and I say it was a company car, but it gets me places and they can handle the conditions I hope. He knows that but doesn’t say anything.
I shake his hand, scan for stray crumbs on the seat and say hey Tony, thanks for the ride.
16
