Nobody at the Grounds for Divorce had seen much of Chad since he got the big promotion to Assistant Manager at the Piggly Wiggly last fall and started putting in a lot more hours.

Shortly thereafter he and Prudence bought a faux French Country Farmhouse ranchette out in Morningwood, the tract development south of town that seems to be drawing in all the up and coming Gen X’ers in town. Spending money they don’t have to impress neighbors they don’t know with things they don’t need is a trend that seems to have migrated from California to Fort Stockton. “Better that than electric cars, I suppose,” claims Mayor Goodman.

So everyone was surprised to see Chad walk in to the cafe this morning. Sister Thelma had just shared the article from the Stockton Telegram-Dispatch authored by Emily Pickering titled ‘Dangerous Reason to Stop Picking Your Nose’ which included “an increased risk of developing a neurological condition later in life”. Chad’s appearance diverted the debate over who was going to warn Rusty from the hardware store that his nose mining habit could have long term consequences.

As he sat down, folks could tell Chad looked tired. Not just the kind of tired that comes from the holidays being over, the kind of tired that makes a man look beat. “You alright Chad?” I asked him.

“Just worn out. The hours are catching up with me. Little Chad just turned two and is into everything, bouncing around the house like a fart in a skillet,” he shared. “We’ve known for a couple months that Prudence is pregnant again and found out right before Christmas that we’re having twins. I’m going to have to sell the Civic and find something that’ll hold us all.”

All of a sudden confronting Rusty about the dangers inherent in his nostril diving diversion took a back seat to helping Chad solve his newfound automotive dilemma. “Stay away from anything electric,” Mayor Goodman offered. “I hear the batteries can cause impotency.”

“Might not be a bad thing at this point, “ Sister Thelma offered. “Nature’s birth control.”

That’s when Lucinda pulled up this 1986 Dodge Aries wagon on her iPhone while she was refilling all the cups around the table. “This is what you need,” she claimed. “Seats six. Room in the back for all the accouterments that you have to have with three kids under the age of three.”

Folks around the table nodded in agreement. Rex, the pharmacist, thought out loud, “Talk about birth control, this might be the best there is. But you could probably pay cash for it and not have another payment on top of that new house.”

Chad scrolled through the pictures. “The Golden Bronze Pearlcoat makes kind of a statement,” he mused. “And those tan cloth seats look like they’d be comfortable on the trips to Pyote to see Prudence’s parents.”

Mayor Goodman put on his glasses so he could read the full description while he stirred his coffee. “Says there’s a cassette stuck in the radio. I bet Rusty could get that removed so you could play your collection of ABBA tapes on road trips.”

“Be sure Rusty washes his hands before he touches anything on that dash,” Sister Thelma advised.

Chad got out his phone and was scrolling through the steps he needed to take in order to bid. Murmured something about his credit card and the fact that it might be maxed out, but he was going to register, nonetheless.

“Yours will be the only driveway in Morningwood without an SUV parked in it,” Rex pointed out. Probably not the only impact on Morningwood an Aries wagon will have”, Lucinda thought to herself.

“That settles it,” Sister Thelma said. “Now, who’s going to talk to Rusty about life slipping through his fingers?”