as i paid for my iced tea the indian fellow working the cash register said a warm “have a good day, my friend.”
shortly thereafter as i was driving out of the gas station, i hear a boisterous “HEY, HEY YOU!” the indian fellow was running out of the door after my truck. “the diesel, the diesel,” he shouted.
i pointed to the big white van who had earlier filled a tank right next to me as i had aired up my tires.
“okay, okay.” a smile and a wave and many curious looks from a picnic-benchfull of sweat-drenched road crew members.
nothing like a little misunderstanding over money to get the blood flowing. have a good day, my friend.