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Some mornings you can barely get into the Grounds for Divorce.  I mean, it’s obvious when you round the corner next to the Piggly Wiggly that the place is going to be jam-packed.  The parking lot is full of old iron and there’s old guys standing around in shorts and Hawaiian shirts in the parking lot peering into windows and popping hoods.  It’s almost like an unofficial Folgers-N-Fenders without the free coffee.  You never know if the reason is because Lucinda is wearing something skimpier than usual and word got out, or if there’s an unannounced special on Delgado’s huevos rancheros, which are the best in all of southwest Texas, but the place is packed.

Then, some days it’s like a ghost town in the little cafe we call home.  No rhyme or reason, just empty.  I think back in the day the fluctuations used to bother Lucinda.  But then she came to realize that life isn’t linear.  There are peaks and there are valleys.  She came to appreciate that the valleys help you get ready for the peaks, if you figure out how to maximize the downtime.

It was one of those valleys yesterday when I went into the GFD for my morning Folgers.  In fact, it was just Lucinda and me for a while, although Delgado was obviously back in the kitchen.  She looked sweet and refreshed, like she was enjoying life.  That’s always good to see.  When she brought the fresh pot of Folgers over from the Bunn-O-Matic, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the scents of citrus from whatever the perfume was she was wearing.  I started to ask her what it was, thinking about buying it for Buttercup, but then thought it better that those worlds not collide.  Buttercup smells just fine as she is.

“Light crowd today,” I noted.  Lucinda looked out the window, taking in the scene of a sleepy Fort Stockton.

“Just as well.  Give us a chance to breathe and get caught up.”  She looked at me and smiled.  “I get a lot more people passing through here than I used to.”  She winked.  I took it as a sign of gratitude.  “Delgado is making you some huevos rancheros.  On the house.”  I darn sure wasn’t going to argue with that.

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Lucinda had no sooner returned to the kitchen than AngusHopper walked in and sat down.  Always good to see him.  “Thought I might find you here,” he said as he slid into the booth across from me.  “Where is everybody this morning?”

“Probably at home waiting for their morning copy of the Stockton Telegram-Dispatch to show up on their front porch.  I swear that kid has a flat tire on his Schwinn three times a month,” I noted.

Lucinda had walked up with the pot of Folgers and a CMC mug for Angus.  “More likely he started washing it a little too fast in the shower and got carried away.  Just blamed the papers being delivered late on the Schwinn instead of the schlong.”

“Oh to be 15 again,” I noted.

Ten minutes later we’re enjoying the huevos rancheros and Angus pulls out his phone.  I figured it was going to be a Bring a Trailer listing that he wanted to be sure I’ve seen.  It wasn’t.  It was pictures of an old Ford truck.  “Great old truck,” I told him.  “Mind if I swipe to see any other pictures of it?”  After an unfortunate experience with Trixie at the Piggly Wiggly I learned to always ask before you just start swiping on someone else’s device.

“Feel free.”  I didn’t figure I needed to worry about AngusHopper, but still.  Better safe than sorry.

“That’s a great old Ford truck,” I noted. “Is it a ’63?”

“It’s a ’64.  Just bought it,” he said.

“Well, it’s certainly seen some use.  Got to love the patina it’s acquired over the years.”

“I suppose,” Angus noted.  “But I didn’t buy it to restore.  It’s going to be a donor vehicle for the one I am working on.”  Of course my first thought was that the truck looked too nice to part out, but it was hard to tell from just a picture.  It made me curious as to whet the project was, if this was just the donor vehicle.  That led us to an entirely different conversation.  And additional pictures.   And comparing notes on old Fords from the early sixties and how they can drive right past your heart and into your soul.

But then, the conversation made its way back to the red short-bed beast in the original pictures.  “Lo and behold under the hood is a 223 Mileage Maker six. God forbid should you ever need one but if so, it’s yours. I have plenty of space in the barn and can keep it indefinitely,” Angus noted as Lucinda made her way back to the table to clear the empty plates.  Clarifying the offer, Angus noted, “You may not have the mouse poop-encrusted Kraco graphic equalizer in the cab – that’s all mine.”  Every man’s generosity has a limit of some kind, I suppose.  Even Warren Buffet said he wasn’t going to give any more money to the Gates Foundation, after tens of billions.

We finished our conversation.  Probably had two more cups of Folgers. Since it wasn’t busy, Lucinda made sure we never saw the bottom of our cups. Angus left first, saying something about there never being any rest for the wicked. I left not too long after that. Before I got out of the booth, I left a twenty on the table, even though Lucinda had said it was no charge this morning.

I’ve been blessed. Blessed in countless ways, really.  Some I probably don’t even realize. People who read and support the blog.  People kind enough to hold on to a Mileage Maker Six, just on the offhand chance I might need it someday. “One in the chamber,” so to speak. Not to mention good health, close friends, and a family I hold dear. 

Life is good. 

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