I rode the bike to the DG where I parked it next to a neat little motor scooter. I went in to pick up two items, coffee and laundry detergent, two things I suppose one could exist without, but that could hardly be called living. When I came back to my wheel, a young man was loading his purchases into the scooter. “That’s the way to go these days,” I remarked.
“Sure is, Mr. L,” he replied.
I said, “If I’m not on my bike I am on one of those.”
“I remember,” he said, “that you rode a bike with a really high seat.”
“Yes, but not anymore. I doubt that I could even get on it anymore. Age does that to you.”
“I know,” he chimed in, “I just turned fifty-two. I’ll have a new grandchild in a week or two.”
Really, I am thinking. This was one of my students in elementary school. I could not think of his name. I used to be fair with name recall, but the brain, like the muscles, seems to atrophy with time. “How many grandchildren do you have now?” I inquired.
“Three, all girls. If the next one isn’t a boy, that will be the end of the line for the Mc______ name.”
(Thanks for the clue!) "Well, it is all good, anyway,” I said. “It’s good to see you".
He extended his hand, I shook it, and he said, “Nice seeing you, too!” He started his motor, I mounted the bike. Each headed his own way.