George Caywood
February 13, 2017 at 2:15 PM ·
A great lady invited me over for a visit a few years back.I loved the idea because I wanted to get acquainted with her. I asked what I could bring. She suggested I could bring over a sub sandwich. I asked what kind of sub sandwich she would like. She said Italian meats. I bought the best Italian sub I could find.
I pulled up to park in the block where she lived, got out carrying my wonderful sandwich. I had everything under control. As I started to look for her place I noticed I was in the wrong block. I got in the car and drove a few blocks down.
When I got out of the car I realized I did not have the sandwich. “What on earth did I do with the sandwich?” I asked myself with a growing dread. Then I realized when I had gotten out of the car in the last parking place I had set the sandwich on the hood of the car while I looked for the right house
I decided to walk back and find it. When I got there I saw that I had run over the sandwich when I moved the car to the right location. I picked up the sandwich in its wrapping paper and carried it back to the block where where my car was parked.
By now I was really late so I knocked on the door. When she opened the door and saw the sandwich she laughed graciously. She said. “There probably is enough sandwich left that we could salvage a light lunch. She carried it to the kitchen. When she pulled off the wrapping she saw I had run over the Sub from end to end. As I stared at it with a horrified feeling in my stomach I realized the tire tread marks were criss crossed. I had run over it with a front and rear tire.
We both laughed. She laughed first and then I joined after a few seconds of recovery. Fortunately she had some liverwurst and made us a nice sandwich. We then enjoyed a wonderful conversation for a few hours. There is something about a compacted sandwich which breaks down
George Caywood 