Dreams and Nightmares

I came out of the post office just in time to see this spiffy fully restored and freshly painted Mustang convertible pull up to the curb, parking in a handicapped space. The elderly driver got out and haltingly walked to the rear of the car, holding on as he shuffled along. He opened the trunk, took out and set up his walker, closed the trunk, and slowly proceeded to go into the post office.

I envisioned him forty-odd years ago wishing that he could have afforded that convertible, picturing himself picking up chicks and tooling around town the envy of his friends. Now at last he has the car and his memories.