It could be that I’m talking about myself if I really carried the notion of “confused old man” to the limit.

In this case, though, I am talking about a specific confused old man on 395 in California. He wanted to get go home and I told him the way. He didn’t believe me though and he kept asking other people if they knew how to get to there.

I got gas, peed, bought an iced tea, jumped about a bit and he came back to ask me again if I knew the way home. It was 15 miles north on 395 and I was going that way. He asked me how to get out of the parking lot.

I have a hard time being a dick to people so I was polite and courteous and showed him that magic portal. He was confused and a little scared. I tried to help as best I could.

Inside though, I was screaming “You crazy old fucker! You’re going to forget how to drive at 70 mph and kill a family! You’re going to plow into cows! You know how you got in to the gas station? Why don’t you try going out the same way?! You’re going to get me fucking killed you goddamn alzheimer ridden motherfucker! ”

He left before me, even managed to get out of the gas station, and then I left after checking the map for where I might want to go. And when I got on the road and started moving, I quickly caught up to his little car weaving precariously across the road like he was looking for an exit to that crazy thing.

I was stuck behind him for ten mintues due to the vagaries of the road and the oncoming traffic until he turned off into his driveway. That was scary but I wasn’t going to let a crazy old man slow me down.

I had no where to be and had to get there quick!