Old men love their stuff. It is gold to them but to others it is rust and dust. Coffee cans and peanut butter jars filled with assorted nuts, bolts, screws, and nails. A tube of hardened super glue he feels has another drop.
In the corner of his shed are several bird’s nests of bailing twine for when the world may end. On the shelf is a Dollar General yellar bag filled with strips of old Hanes t-shirts that are his go-to grease rags. There’s a row of nails with greasy baseball caps that a vagabond wouldn’t dare to wear.
Continue reading “Old Men and Their Junk”
