This is a bit of a long story. That fellow to my right is Ron. We first met in Houston in 1961, a couple of weeks before my 10th birthday. He had just turned 11. Our families had both just recently arrived in town. He was from Oklahoma, I was from a small town in central Texas. Our dads were hard working construction hands who happened to frequent a popular ice house on the SE side of Houston for a few beers after work. Ron and I hit it off pretty well. We hung out together as kids, grew up together. I came to think of him as a brother. 

He got his drivers license before me and in the summer of ‘67, I think, bought a 1957 Oldsmobile with money he earned helping his dad, who was a painter. His dad spray painted that thing in their front yard with his house painting rig, Rustoleum Red. By some miracle, it turned out dam near perfect, a real beauty. He got offers for it everywhere he went. We made a lot of memories in that car. A lot of double dates, sure, but also just him and me cruising the streets around SE Houston on summer nights, listening to the Stones, Dylan, Beatles, on the radio. Almost every time we get together now, a story involving that old car will come up. 

Anyway, we’ve been friends 55 years. Lot’s of folks have good friends I guess. I don’t imagine anybody ever had a better one than this guy. 

Oh, those two kids are a couple of my grandchildren, brother and sister. They were two of the birthdays we were celebrating on the trip last week. 

They’re Ron’s grand-kids too. 

Like I said, it’s a long story…..