A Test of Wills

We are headed to the sushi buffet for lunch and

Samuel is driving his beat up Volkswagon Beetle,

A car he is entirely too big to fit in.

He looks like a giant gorilla

Squashed into the front seat.

A stop sign prevents us from going into the next intersection

And so we come to a screeching halt

As Samuel slams his foot down on the brake.

My friend is not known for

The quality of his driving.

A grandmother stands at the streetcorner with her cane,

Having shuffled slowly to the end of the sidewalk she

Appeared to be preparing herself

To cross the street in front of us

About as fast as molasses on snow.

She sees us and begins waving her arm,

Signaling for us to go ahead and continue

But Samuel rolls down his window

Motioning for her to cross

He is always trying to be a gentleman.

The grandmother motions more intensely with

Her cane wobbling against the concrete,

I notice she is wearing those giant sunglasses

The kind that make old people look like

Wrinkled versions of Cyclops from the X-Men.

The car behind us is growing impatient and I watch as

A head pops out the driver’s side window

Wondering what the delay in traffic is.

In the meantime

My stomach grumbles for delicate sushi.

Samuel continues to wave her along furiously

His left hand cranking along like a windmill

A look of sheer concentration on his face.

He is determined to be courteous

At the sacrifice of my stomach.

The grandmother does something incredulous

Refusing to cross in front of the little Beetle

She manages to ease herself onto the curb,

Her tiny old arm waving Samuel along

As she sits down on the corner.

I turn to Samuel and place my hand on his shoulder

Looking him squarely in the eye I say,

“Face it, man. You’ve lost. Let’s go from

This forsaken battleground

And get some goddamn maki rolls.”

He grudgingly switches his foot onto the other pedal

A sigh of defeat escaping from between his lips

As we pass the sitting grandmother on the curb

Through a hail of honking cars behind us

I think I hear the grandmother cackling in victory.

“Well met, Grandmother, well met,”

Samuel says, under his breath, with utmost resignation,

He suddenly reaches out the window shaking his fist

As the grandmother propped herself up

There was no mistaking the finger she raised

In salutation to her youthful challenger.