Teddy is an insanely cautious driver, unwilling to goose his little Civic into a left turn in front of oncoming traffic. ‘The cars are spaced just wrong. I can’t help it,’ he explains when he sees me grinning at him.
Teddy’s my age, forty-nine, and though his features are more boyish, he too is beginning to show signs of age. Never robust, his chest seems to have become more concave, which emphasises his small paunch….
It occurs to me as I study him that Teddy would have a hard time starting over – that is, learning how unfamiliar things work, competing, finding a mate. The business of young men. ‘Why would I have to start over?’ he wants to know…. Apparently, to judge from the way he’s looking at me now, I have spoken my thought out loud, though I wasn’t aware of doing so….
Having spied a break in the oncoming traffic, he takes his foot off the brake and leans forward, his foot poised over but not touching the gas pedal, only to conclude that the gap between the cars isn’t as big as he thought, settling back into his seat with a frustrated sigh.