French's grandfather, Smitty, got snowed in last weekend. A shear pin broke on his snow blower. We pulled it out and the three of us changed the oil, replaced the pin and the spark plug as well. Smitty fired it up and plowed out his double wide driveway while we shovelled his frontlane and porch.
Afterwards he brewed us up some strong coffee with a solid dash of Canadian rye. Smitty started talking about his 10 year plan: new perennials, staining his deck, new roof on his shed, and some new outdoor lighting for starters. Smitty also wanted to "get back over to Dublin at some point". He had a Lonely Planet: Ireland travel guide on his kitchen table.
Smitty, more or less, shooed us out after our coffee was done. He said: "Thanks lads. I'm off to bowling. Gonna beat that goddamned Scotty Macfarlane today".
I asked French how old Smitty was. French said "bout 96...give or take".
