Sunday, August 07, 2011
Nobody knows how I get comfortable in the backseat of my car. It's a 1960 Nash Metropolitan convertible, beige yellow with white trim & white seats. I don't like driving it during summer. I might have to park it in places people are unappreciative. I have a legal moped I never pedal. Legal except I had it modified to do 40 mph on a flat surface, & Cape May County is all flat surface.
X-Ray stopped in the road, backed the truck up my short driveway, braked, shut off the engine, & got out. I knew he was packing a Colt Commander .45 ACP. I couldn't see it, but unlike some P.I.s you read in novels, he never assumes he won't need it. In all fairness, he mostly uses it like a sap. When you ask him how he managed to get a carry permit in Jersey without owning an armored truck company and wearing a ridiculous uniform instead of the Fitzgerald Irish linen sports coats, all he says is, "It's how I do business, baby." We're old friends. Totally opposite politics, but I like to think we conduct our friendship on a higher spiritual plane. I also like his wife.
X-Ray is a large man, over 6' & I wouldn't venture a guess at his weight. His wife feeds him to be big. I am 5'6", weigh 125, & my Indian vegetarian lady doctor tells me to eat more meat. I should accept more invites to dinner at the X-Rays'.
Labels: Metropolitan Man