The old man

His cane was on the backseat before he was. He threw it in and it hit the opposite door with a clunk. A moment ago, he had used the cane to flag me down by holding it straight up into the air. That's what old men like to do, I have noticed. I'm thinking they either find it difficult to raise up an arm, or they don't trust their arm's visibility as much as their cane's.

He was excited to be in a green cab. He thanked me about three times for driving a green cab.

At Sutter and Webster, he said

"There are some nice pink blossoms to the left, if you can catch them."

I looked over and saw some pinkly blossoming trees. "Oh yeah, they are beautiful."

"It's always so nice to see them; I'm not sure why. But I like to notice them."

"I think that blossoms can make you feel peaceful and content. That could be why."

"I think you're probably right."

I was glad he had pointed them out to me. I always appreciate people pointing out little bits of beauty.

When I dropped him off at the medical center he was going to, he apologized for being slow to get out of the car and said

"Don't ever get old, okay?"

"Okay, I won't."

"If you can help it, try not to."

"I'm always trying."

"Thank you for giving me such a nice ride."

"You are very welcome."