The Cowboy. the Tangerine. And the Damsel in Distress.

After fifty-seven freaking minutes, the Tow Truck finally pulls up, brakes squealing.

I cringe. Look over here the truck squeals, check out the distracted middle aged woman who locked her keys and her dog in the car and please notice that she's not wearing any makeup and quite possibly hasn't seen a hairbrush this morning either. And oh yeah, Why is her butt all wet?

Two gentlemen emerge. The Big One hoists up his pants and ambles across the street, wisecracking to The Little One, who wields the Slim Jim.

Note: Yes, you heard me right. The Little One wields the Slim Jim.

How y'all doing today? The Big One booms, smoothing his fringe of short orange hair.

Is this a serious question?

The Little One has the door unlocked before I can even answer. I begin to thank him but I am distracted by his belt buckle. It is one of those big rodeo belt buckles that cowboys wear to brag about their prowess. As a cowboy, yes.

I ask him if he is a cowboy.

Nah, he is saying, his big brown eyes fluttering a bit, I think, I just like the buckle. I am trying to say something about growing up in the country but The Big One is making holler-up noises and saying, Hey Dude, she's totally into you.

The Cowboy is younger than The Son, for crying out loud, but The Cowboy is grinning and The Big One is nodding and I think that this day cannot be more mortifying.

Note: Sure it can!

The Big One takes my driver's license and says Wow, that's a hot picture and he's right, yes. He chatters about his license photo that makes him look like a Giant Tangerine and honestly, I can kind of see that possibility.

I say Thank you for your help today. The Giant Tangerine says We get that a lot. The Cowboy is nodding and he is smiling.

The Giant Tangerine says there are other ways to thank him. I love pancakes, he is saying, the next morning.

Are you kidding me?

Hope springs eternal, I guess.



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Location:Lakeside Dr,Oakland,United States