Driving through a neighborhood, coming home with fast eats, a man is seen doing something rarely seen at home: he was mowing the grass. His path was perpendicular to the street. His heading brought him closer and closer to the curb. Expecting the grimy polo shirt clad gentleman to change direction at the curb, the car continues down the street unabated. Unexpectedly, the grimy polo shirt clad gentleman continued mowing out to the middle of the street. I stop. He stopped. I look at him. He looked up at me. I wait for him to move. He looked for more grass to mow. He waives at me as if to say, “big of you not to run over me good fellow.” The grimy polo shirt clad gentleman did an about face and followed his mower back to greener pastures. I went home and ate a biggie classic single meal. I never did finish my sprite.