The man in the cap in the old blue pick-up truck

I noticed the man in the old blue Nissan pick-up truck because of a bumper sticker. I don't remember two of them, but the third said, "Veterans for Kerry." I felt a connection with this man in the old blue pick-up truck because I voted for Kerry, too. I thought about the man being a veteran. I could tell he was older; I'm not sure how exactly. Maybe it was his neck and the way his shoulders sloped. He was wearing a flat cap, the kind that old men wear, and I thought when Aaron is old, he will wear a cap like that.

[Extraneous comment: I did not know the name of the hat the man was wearing, so I tried googling various hat names that I could think of but could not find it. I finally searched for "old man hat." It came up instantly.]

The old blue Nissan pick-up truck was a stick shift. Each time we pulled away from a stop light, it was in harmony with his clutch. I wondered about his life, did he have a wife, kids, grandkids? Was he a widower out enjoying his drive, maybe on his way home from the library? I wondered about him in his old blue Nissan pick-up and flat cap.

We toodled along, me behind him, and I felt whimsically downcast that I soon had to turn off for gas. I wondered where he was going. Was he close to home? Had he lived there long? Had he just moved and why? And then he turned into the same 7-Eleven where I was going to get gas. I felt happy. I got to wonder about him more, maybe see what he was wearing. I also felt a bit chagrined, though -- I did not want him to think I was following him all those miles -- so I was glad when he parked rather than getting gas.

He was wearing khaki pants with cuffs and an old-style windbreaker. I don't remember his shoes. They were not sneakers, perhaps they were loafers. He went inside, and I got gas. I was getting ready to leave, when he came out with a bag. If he was a widower, it might have been dinner. Or maybe he was taking a sweet to his love. Then, he lit a cigarette.

He got back into his old blue pick-up truck, and I wound up directly behind him again, wondering again about this man. I had imagined all sorts of romantic lives for him, but at this point I thought, what if he is a child molester? What if he beat his wife? A flat cap, Kerry bumper sticker, and old blue pick-up truck do not make him a good person. Then I wondered why my thoughts suddenly went that way. Was it the cigarette?

He turned off at that point, and I continued along my way. I stopped wondering about the man, but I kept wondering about wondering, about where those thoughts come from and why. Why was this man in the old blue pickup truck a romantic figure until he put that cigarette in his mouth? Was it simply coincidence, and my thoughts would have gone that direction anyway when I realized how I had romanticized him? I don't know. I wonder.