For the first time in twenty years I've moved. No, I mean I wiggle around a bit every now and then but I have just packed up and moved myself, along with Jamaica and the Angel and all our worldly belongings to a new house. New for us. It was built in 1964. It's way on the "other side of town."
We had only been here for a day or two when I saw an old man pushing a lawn mower next door. I went out and waited for him to stop for a break, walked over, stuck out my hand and said, "I'm Ronny Elliott. I'm your new neighbor."
He shook my hand and drawled, "Donald Engleberger. Glad to know you."
I asked, "Donald Engleberger? Did your folks used to own a nursery near here?"
"Still do- or I do," he replied.
"I bought a 1930 Ford from you when I was fourteen years old."
"You bought my Ruptured Duck?," he gasped.
Yeah, this guy that I met once fifty three years ago for about fifteen minutes is my new next door neighbor. How about the idea that I remembered him? Nicest guy in the world. Tell me that it's not a small world.
By the way, this wasn't my first car. By the time I was old enough to drive legally I was on my third hot rod. A '32 Ford three window coupe with a Corvette engine. I'm not gonna say that my mother spoiled me. You be the judge. You women in my life are disqualified.