- Before my father passed, I was fortunate to travel with him across the country to buy an antique car. The trip was pure joy. Dad lived it up, swapping geezer stories at every rest stop and flirting with waitresses in ten states. We were Route 66 freedom flyers, a greyhair and a whitehair, wishing it would never end. At a rib joint in Jackson, Tennessee, a freckled young lady pandered for a better tip and asked about the car. Dad kept her from her tables for a full five minutes, regaling her with a Model T romance story that drew horselaughs from everyone within earshot. The girl patted him on the shoulder and smirked as she wheeled back to work. She flashed an amazing smile when she carefully placed the check near Dad. He looked at the ticket, and sat up. "I think she likes me" he said, and handed me the paper. "U SWEET" was in frilly print under the scribbled order, and a cute dimpled smiley face was drawn to the side. Dad positively glowed. He left a hefty tip, and insisted the tab was his. He presented his prize to the cashier, who read off the items as she entered them into the buzzy register, "Two rib specials, ggiwhizzhit, onion rings, ggiwhizzhit, pie, ggiwhizzhit, two tea, one UNsweetened..."
- I waited for a full thirty minutes, watching Dad sulk in the car with his arms crossed, before I thanked him for dinner. "Oh, Shut Up!" was all he said.
Another offering to Scribbit's monthly writing contest. Check it out at http://scribbit.blogspot.com/. I can't believe I didn't win LAST month! I wrote more words than ANYone!