Tonight dinner was just me and the boys. The girls were out, and I made tacos! Of course, a Pete’s Wicked Ale goes quite well with tacos.
I pull up to my parking spot at the local supermarket, for a quick trip inside. As I get out of my car, I notice a sweet looking 1968 Ford Fairlane pull up in front of me. Real clean. Walking by the white beauty, I hear the teenaged daughter ask her 50ish dad, “Can I drive it home daddy, pleeeeease?”
“Sure honey.” I head inside.
I walk towards the beer aisle, looking for that new Budweiser, American Ale. I hadn’t tried it yet, and thought I’d give it a chance. Not bad, but that’s another story.
Searching for the bad-beer-maker’s-attempt-at-good-beer, I realize that the Fairlane Dad is standing near me. He too wants beer. Just then, a pair of high school aged boys appear on our aisle. They were not remarkable until they decide to grace us with their small vocabularies and ignorant view of appropriate alcohol intake. “Oh f##k, I’d love to get s##t-faced tonight!”
Without hesitation, Fairlane Dad has turned and barked, “Watch your mouth! That’s not appropriate.” Score one for Fairlane Dad. I think I’m going to like it here on California’s Central Coast. The boys scamper off.
I found my selection and wandered to the capitalist altar, the cash register. Who stepped behind me in line? Fairlane Dad. Just beer, too. As I’m paying, the potty-mouths arrive, and realize too late that they’re directly behind the Fairlane Dad. They have a tag-along. She says, “Brian, mom said I could get a soda.” I don’t think Brian was intending on purchasing her a soda.
“I’m not getting that for you, bitch!” Brian did not learn his lesson.
As if he has decided that Brian’s dad clearly forgot something, Fairlane Dad turns quite rapidly, “I cannot believe that you just spoke that way to your sister! Who do you think you are! If I was your father, I’d take you out and kick the crap out of you.” Everyone is looking, Fairlane Dad has yelled, and he doesn’t care. I like Fairlane Dad. Brian is red, only red. Oh yeah, and he’s quiet.
As things turn back to normal, I leaned back and said, “Is that your Fairlane I saw you climb out of?” Fairlane Dad, “Sure is, it’s a ’68.” I added, “It’s real nice.” He thanked me, and off I went, home to try my beer, thinking, “There should be just a few more Fairlane Dads. Makes things a bit better.”
Oh yeah, it wasn’t just beer for me. I’m an impulse shopper. I grabbed that low priced Hershey’s package of individually wrapped chocolate. It was a great price, get off my back.