the tire guy


The guy in the tire place handed me the bill and then leaned over the counter.

“I read one of your books,” he said.

“Was it Rodeo Town?” I asked.

Rodeo Town is real popular in these parts, essays about valley people that I wrote for the local paper a number of years ago.

“No, I read some of those Shards,” he said.

“Oh,” I said. “Oh, well. What’d ya think?”

“They’re like Picasso paintings,” he said. “All the body parts are in the wrong place.”

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