“What do we need to talk about, Dear?” I asked, though I had a inkling. “Your ex-wife, Gary,” Patricia said, seriously, but with an odd twinkle in her eye. “That promises to be rather an involved discussion,” I replied, “so do you mind if I relay my news first, before I forget again?” “I suppose,
I’m always kind of uncomfortable riding in luxury cars. Totally smooth and silent, air conditioned, with soft leather seats that perfectly conform to your body, I think it’s the remote, disconnected feeling that I find disconcerting. I’m much more comfortable in my noisy, rough riding 1968 Dodge pickup. I don’t want to say the woman