He’d brought his favorite toy car down to drive on their working vacation. The Jag was a convertible, racing green, 1969, vintage. His tried and true toy since he bought it from the original owner back in 1989. He loved the car. Except for the Lucas electrical system, which he overlooked, the way a proud parent overlooks a club foot….

There had been a day when he’d felt swashbuckling in the car. Younger and slimmer then. It was hard to remember back. He had only faded shadows of memories of what it’d been like. Realistically the Judge had always been too tall for the car. And now he was too old and too fat as well. The convertible top was already down, by necessity. He unsnapped the tonneau over its cockpit on the driver’s side, then knelt down, squeezing his bulk in and under the wooden steering wheel, struggling with a two piece seat belt that both went around his waist and came down over his shoulder, a new innovation back in the day.