I live on the wooded fringe of a very small town. The folks who live deeper in the surrounding wilderness see it as a shopping mecca and social hub; those from more built-up regions of this sparsely-populated state probably see it as a blip on the map; people who live in honest-to-goodness cities might not see it at all. There are less than a thousand locals, and either directly or by association, we all know one another. Nobody locks their doors, or even bothers to take their keys out of the ignition. The last time a car got stolen here was six years ago, and the thief made it a whole quarter of a mile before somebody recognized the car--but not the driver--and the County Sheriff's office was all over him like ravens on roadkill. We don't even have our own police department. We don't need one.
So, when I came out of the town's 6-aisle grocery store one night and saw a black VW station wagon parked next to my truck, my first thought was that it was odd that I hadn't crossed paths with my father inside the store. Looking around, I quickly spotted him in the shadows beneath a tree at the edge of the parking lot, walking his dog on a leash.
With the proper tone of mockery, I shouted, "What's the matter, couldn't the little s__t wait until you got home?"
After a pause, a completely unfamiliar voice responded, "I'm sorry, are you speaking to me?"
Out of the shadows walked a man who could have been my Dad's long-lost twin. Not only was he of the same approximate age and build as my father, but he carried himself the same way, wore the same style of hat, and had very similar glasses. His dog was even the same size and color as my Dad's dog, although it wasn't quite as funny-looking. And, of course, this gentleman was also the owner of the car that I had thought to be my father's. It even had Maine plates, but of a different style.
I apologized immediately, explaining the mix-up and pointing out the numerous details that had led to my confusion. The fellow listened patiently, cupping his chin in one hand, and after a few moments of silence, he asked, "Tell me, are you on good terms with your father?"
"Absolutely," I said, "I love my Dad. He's the greatest!"
"If that's the case," the man said thoughtfully, "I suppose I can't take issue with being mistaken for him, can I?"
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