* * * * *
The crosstraffic halted, and the truck again got under way. Then suddenly, as it must have been, although from where we were it seemed like a leisurely stroll, it veered through the other traffic lane and smoke burst from its hood. We could see the driver pop from his seat and race to the corner fire alarm box. Almost instantly traffic both ways was four deep. I turned away from the window. I don't like heights, anyway.
"Now can I go?" Walk, not run to the nearest exit.
The old man spoke directly to the uniforms, "Well, gentlemen, are you satisfied?"
They were satisfied, all right. They were stunned. They were probably visualizing a stalled tank retriever, a stalled 6x6.
"Thank you, Mr. Miller. Thank you very much." My grin was wide, as I started for the door.
"But I think that it is only fair, before you go, for me to tell you one thing."
With my hand on the knob, I laughed at him. "You mean that there isn't any Santa Claus?"
The corners of his mouth went up. "Not for you, I'm afraid. Are you insured?"
"Me? Insured? You mean the extra thirty cents I give the newsboy every week?"