My dad travels the back roads of the Midwest, selling dinettes to small furniture stores that double as mortuaries. Summer is here again.
“You can drive, Rosie. You can be my assistant. I like a good lookin’ assistant.”
I have nothing going on until Drivers’ Ed in August so I take him up on the offer. He is talking about his days as a shill for the Royal American Side Shows.
He launches into his patter. “A pretty girl is like a melody and keeps you warm at night besides.”
“Dad.”
We swing onto the expressway, facing rivers of concrete and hours of spinning wheels.
“I been to Auction, Bauction, Baraboo. Newport, Bridgeport, Salem, too. My hometown is a one-horse town, but it’s big enough for me,” he sings. “What’s next, Rosie?”
“On this side I’m a man…” I recite.
“Ri-i-i-i-ght!”
“Strong and vir-ile. On this side,” I continue.
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