Snf snf …. sniff… sn..
I am fondly remembering the day my dad brought me my first under seat axe head… he had seen the axe handle in back seat, looked at me, turned and went in garage to retrieve said axe head.Not til after he tucked it under the seat on the floor boards, did he explain why.
Saying, “axe handle is a potential weapon, having the axe head makes it, reasonably, a tool again. Same thing goes for a bat in the car. Better have a ball and glove. Tell them you are keeping the axe and handle together in the car until the next time you get out to your dads place to fix it. I’ll corroborate it.”
Patted me on the back, then shuffled off to talk to our neighbor, Ernie.
Dad was like that, just pop off out of know where with criminal knowledge, or gangsta know how, unannounced, unsolicited, and yet, generally right on point.
Irony being, that rather than being some hood, or mobbed up tough guy, he was a parole officer, and the Vice President of their Union!
What’s that old Eddie Murphy line? “I wasn’t always a cop”?,
Yeah, neither was dad.