I am not a hooker, demented, or flirtatious and I can't get down into sports cars anymore, but I do talk to almost anyone. My kids say I can't shut up. My sister said I was good at sales because people would buy stuff from me just to get me to shut up. But, every once in a while they are impressed with the skill of being able to talk to anyone and that, often, people need someone to talk to.
I enjoy talking to people, too. Most people enjoy a casual conversation without any strings. I'll talk to almost anybody if they look like normal people. I was standing in line at a checkouts once and a couple were just in front of me. He gave her a hug and I said, "You better quit that before you have to marry that woman." They LOLed and we went on to have an interesting conversation even after we got through checkout.
I talk to just about everyone, but not as much as I used to because of my inability to talk clearly these days. My point was that I doubt any of you would go up to an unknown man with a nice sports car and ask if he would take you for a ride. Commenting and admiring a sports or restored car is one thing, but asking for a ride is something I could never do.
I should have clarified my statement to say something like "they acted like they wanted to jump in the car".
I wasn't trying to be critical or flippant. It just seems that lots of folks just want someone to listen to them, you know what I mean? I figures that mostly what you were doing was lending them an ear.
Atta boy! I knew if I twisted your arm enough, you would fess up to having an overactive imagination.
Time for some old-style cowboy poetry I wrote this morning. The Old Widow at the Doctor's Office What is a young heifer like you doin single, the old cowboy asked Why does an old goat like you care, I replied pulling down my mask His eyes widened and his weathered face tightened, I could see his concern I babbled on with quick breath, though his manner now spoke, he didn't give a durn I suppose I never had time to remarry after my husband departed You know the days are too short when the cattle need sorted It is always something, bad weather, maybe the alfalfa gets a bug Just when you find your stance, then whap, underfoot goes the rug The orphaned half-beef calves snatched from their dairy cow mamas I continued without breath, omitting the commas Were fed in the early morning way before the cock crew Even though my hands were cold, turning all shades of blue Then off to work building fences or running backhoe Briefly tipping my thermos, sipping steaming old Joe Time flew faster than a rare speckled hawk in a dive Thinning my egg-laying flock, there was one less alive Back in those days, there was no time for prep Readying for town and doin two-step Except after rodeo when my dance card could have been full Of drunken no time cowboys, no thanks, shooting the bull Even rodeo was a time I regarded as a treasure It was always busy even though it was pleasure I suppose I could have made time for romance And found a cowboy, squeezed in his tight pants But the years flew by, my youth is now gone for good Now even though I ain't a heifer and chew my cud And you now see a cow with her old smooth mouth The mask wasn't deceit, twas doctor rule of his house