Greg's always got real-life advice for me. 'Smithy's' real name is Greg, btw. It's my third ride in his cab. Every thing's been consistent: he starts his car the moment he sees me appear from the hotel entrance, his back passenger door is still broken which means he has to open the door at the station to let me out, AND he never has any change! This time he says, "Have your children young 25 or so because, you know, you don't wanna be an old pops...well for you. You know what I mean. Older woman. All my kids are grown: I got two who are out of school; one who play basketball in Louisiana, at Southern out there and, uh. Yeah, you know. You look young, so....women sometimes have problems, you know, I'm not saying you will because you look young..."
He pauses to look out the window again. We get to a stop light and he has to stop suddenly to avoid running it. He was looking at a young woman crossing the street.
"...and, uh," he continues. "You look like you're about 23, 24. Right? How old are you?"
"I'm older than 24, Greg."
"Oh, you is? Well, I'm not gonna ask you your age because I'm from the South and I'm a gentleman. Gentleman aren't suppose to ask young ladies, er or grown women there age, you see.
Greg told me he was 45.
"You see I wanted to be a young father."
Yep, Greg, I see. I feel you.
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