Mother and I were behind a pickup truck at the stop sign at Old Cape Road and South Shawnee Blvd., when I happened to look through his rear window.
Perched on his dash was a huge clock with figurines on each side. This was truly an analog guy trapped in a digital world.
When I clicked on the image to make it larger, his clock appears to be showing about 4:47 p.m. The time stamp on the photo says 3:31 p.m. My camera was still sitting on Eastern Time, not Central Time. Bottom line: neither one of us had a clue about what time it was.
Repairing a grandfather’s clock
Reminds me of the old joke about the guy who needed to take his grandfather’s clock to the jeweler for repair. It was too big for his car, but the jeweler was only a block away, so he decided he’d carry it. That went fine for about 30 feet, but the clock was heavier than he had anticipated.
It got so that the distance he could move it grew shorter and shorter. He would stagger 25, then 20, then 15 feet before he had to set the clock down. Before long, 10 feet was the best he could do. Pick it up, stagger 10 feet, set it down, gaze at it until he gathered his strength, look down the block to the jeweler, repeat.
Finally, a little boy walked up to him and said, “Mister, you DO know that they make clocks you can wear on your wrist, don’t you?”
Can kids even tell time with watches with hands these days?