I was seated on my behind in a parking lot changing a flat tire on my old pickup truck when an older white gentleman came up out of nowhere. Dressed as I was in tattered jeans, a white tee shirt stained with ketchup and fried chicken grease and a black knit cap, my knee-jerk reaction was a fear that perhaps he thought I was stealing hubcaps. Yikes, was a bullet or cop soon to pay me a visit?

But I was wrong. Boy was I wrong.

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