Stranger

I don't usually cook. In fact, I hate cooking. But tonight, after a tough couple of days, I suggested that Susan have a break from cooking dinner. Strangely, she was initially reluctant to take me up on my offer until, after several attempts to convince her, she leaned across and whispered "But honey, I don't really want to eat anything that you cook..." My response? Subway. An agreeable compromise for all concerned.

On my way home (with a footlong veggie for Susan and I to share, and a footlong meatball marinara for the girls to share) I happened across this chap, in the car park (or should that be parking lot?) of a drive-through liquor store. Only in America. I slowed the truck down (yes, I drive a truck these days, hold your comments about that) and snapped this through the windscreen of a moving vehicle. In my defence, I was also in the car park, there were no other moving vehicles around and I was only travelling at about 2 miles per hour. Besides, although Kentucky has anti-texting laws now, I don't think they have anti-photography laws just yet.