The shine was remarkable. I don't know cars, at all, but I could tell this one was old. It had hard, strong, straight lines, it cut the air in half on strong right angles. I couldn't hear the engine as it drove by and then only a soft purr when it came to a stop. I was waiting outside our building for Joe to come and join me. The door to the old car openned and an elderly man got out. He wore a shirt, crisply pressed, and an old western string tie. He went to the door, stood and waited. I knew by his face that his passenger was on their way out. He beamed as he openned the door. A woman, of similar age, came through. I saw her walker first but when she emerged it was obvious that she took a great deal of care with her clothes, her hair, her presentation to the world.
He took the walker and set it aside offering her his arm to lean on. She rested her hand on his and they walked to the car together. He openned the door and waited for her to get in. He closed the door gently after her. Then he openned the truck, with some difficulty. The Cadillac emblem had come off and was taped back into place. It fell into his hand and he pocketed it. Then he lifted the walker into the back and closed the trunk.
It took him a few minutes of fiddling to get the logo back in place. It looked worse for the wear as he had used two pieces of black tape to get it back on. It looked like an X had been placed through it. But it held and he headed back to the car. I wanted to say something so I did, 'Still looks good.'
He grinned at me and said, 'Yes it does, son, it does.' As he was getting into the car he looked back at me and said, 'Just because one part doesn't work any more doesn't mean that the rest is disposable, does it?'
'I certainly hope not,' I said, 'or where would we be?'
'Aye, that's a frightening question isn't it?' he said as he got it.
'Aye, it is,' I said to no one in particular.