I’m remembering the time I went with strangers John and Joe to my Grandma’s house on what turned out to be an epic mission, to get scrap iron. You would not believe that their names were really John and Joe unless you saw them. John was so big in the middle that he was pressed between the steering wheel and the back of his seat like a big pillow. I got on the other side of the pick-up and John introduced me to Joe. I cannot describe Joe, he was completely what a ‘Joe’ is.
Hauling scrap and salvage was glorious work for them. Bowling down the highway in a half ton truck with two tons of rusty iron, no front brakes and split recaps was just part of the excitement they thrived on. It was truly one of the most watchful and alert drives I have had. That we only had one tire blowout on the way home proved this was their true calling and demonstrated their expertise. Of course the gas tank had a small leak and if we put more than six gallons in at a time we got to smell fumes for a while, maybe this had something to do with my impressions.
Driving home John kept resting his sweatshirt on the instrument panel. Joe constantly told John that the shirt was blocking the gauges but John said that he could see the idiot lights and that was all he needed. Fumes or no fumes, when Joe said that all John needed was an idiot light in the middle of his forehead, I swear it was the funniest thing I ever heard, even though I could only smile at the time. I was focused on the road.
